


The Promise of Holmes and Valentine

by kaelma



Series: Holmes in the Commonwealth [5]
Category: Fallout 4, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Automatron DLC, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, POV First Person, Plot, Post-Canon, Spoilers, Tagging characters as they appear - Freeform, War Never Changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 02:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaelma/pseuds/kaelma
Summary: Part 5 of "Holmes in the Commonwealth."The Holmes family is happy and secure. The Minutemen are flourishing. Though the usual Commonwealth dangers are as present as ever, Holmes seems to have successfully brokered peace among all the factions, and some basic security for human, ghoul, and synth, alike. Unfortunately, there is ever a flaw in the best laid of human plans...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't yet, I highly recommend reading parts 1 - 4 before this.

Christmas in Sanctuary was splendid. Preston truly outdid himself. The return home was practically effortless, in no small part thanks to the company of Piper and Hancock. Hancock returned to Goodneighbor (to the relief of Diamond City's guards) and my family prepared to meet the new year.

Valentine discouraged me from attempting homemade fireworks for the occasion, resulting in a quiet night of listening to Diamond City Radio with the Wrights and Ellie over to celebrate. Nat and Shaun were asleep long before midnight, leaving the four adults to enjoy each other's company as Codsworth poured.

"Wellingham informs me the Upper Stands are still livid," Piper said with no small amount of pride.

"I can't believe you actually published that article," Ellie shook her head.

The article in question was Piper's scathing criticism of the anti-ghoul ban, and the behavior of the Upper Stands residents in particular. The fact that she included direct quotes from victims of the ban and those who tried to help them (including a certain infamous mayor) only made her point even harder to ignore.

"I think it was amazing," Ellie clarified, "but I would have been terrified."

"You sell yourself short, kid," Valentine said with a smile. "I've seen you stare down plenty of clients with more venom in them than a radscorpion. Goodneighbor-girl like you isn't going to let anyone boss her around."

"I guess you'd know, boss," Ellie smiled back, "but it seems like there's a difference between an angry client and an angry city."

"Person or city," Piper shrugged, "it's the same thing."

"When one of those persons could lock you out of the city, it likely puts a unique perspective on the situation," I commented.

Piper laughed lightly, "Yeah, that was irritating, but then I wouldn't have met you, Blue."

"So what's your encore?" Valentine asked.

Piper shrugged, "I'll find something, always do." She glanced around at us with thinly disguised mischief, "I don't suppose any of you three have come across any exclusive scoops?"

Valentine chuckled, "If we do, you'll be the first one we tell."

With the midnight hour came Travis Miles wishing everyone a Happy New Year and an ancient recording of "Auld Lang Syne." We bade our guests a happy New Year and I assured Piper that Nat was welcome to stay as long as she liked in the morning. Piper and Ellie returned to their respective homes, and my partner and I turned in.

Shaun and Nat were up and active long before I was, and hurried down to be treated to Codsworth's feast of a breakfast. By the time I came down, Shaun was on the sofa excitedly showing off his latest magazine to Nat while Valentine watched from the kitchen table, a fond expression on his face.

"You're wearing your Christmas present," I said to him, pleased.

The new (in that it was at least whole instead of patchwork) trench coat fit his thin frame well. He smiled and gestured to the small briar pipe I was currently filling with tobacco, "And you're using yours. Hard time getting out of bed this morning?"

"I became motivated when I heard the children laughing."

His hand covered mine on the table, "Glad the sound carried. I was thinking, what with how quiet things have been both for Minutemen and detective work, you might want to check in with the Railroad."

"Worried I'm getting bored?"

"You _are_ bored, Holmes. What I'm worried about is worse than that."

"My family life is successfully keeping the black moods at bay," I assured him. It was not precisely true, but having them and their love to focus on did help me get through the day with some semblance of functionality.

Valentine wasn't fooled, but there was a knock at the door and I hurried to answer it.

"Piper! Come in, please."

"Aw!" Nat groaned, "Do I have to go home?"

"Nah, you can stay if Shaun's dads say it's ok," Piper laughed. "I, uh, actually came to talk to you, Blue. I need a story, something simple that'll sell, and I hate to say it but a piece on the Combat Zone would really move some papers."

"The Combat Zone?" Valentine walked over, frowning. "Not sure it gets much seedier than that."

"It's a raider establishment, isn't it?" I asked.

"'Establishment' is too nice a word for it," Valentine objected.

"It's a cage-fighting ring," Piper explained.

"And you want to see for yourself what it's like?" I asked, a bit incredulous.

She shrugged, "Want to? No. But will a tale of the depravity of raiders and their entertainment appeal to literally everyone safe behind walls? Yep."

"Like watching a train wreck," I sighed. "And you want me to come with you in case something goes wrong."

"Never hurts to have some backup."

"Let the record show I said this was a terrible idea," Valentine grumbled.

I turned to him, "If you rather I not -"

"Piper's gonna go anyway whether you go or not, and this way you can watch each other's backs. Not to mention how we were just talking about you being bored."

I squeezed his hand with a smile and said to Piper, “I'll get my things.”

The sign outside was a list of rules; no fighting outside the ring, no caps no entrance, and no loitering or begging. Breaking the rules would result in being “shot or worse.”

“Simple enough rules to follow,” I said to Piper, who scoffed and led the way inside. Two raiders were tied up behind the box office of the old theater with a sign declaring them to be “rule breakers.” We ignored their jeers and opened the doors to the theater. The entire stage had been converted into a cage, inside of which a pair of women fought. Raiders were scattered throughout the seats, a bar set up near the stage, as a man in a suit narrated the fight. One of the fighters went down, a cheer went up, and someone noticed us. We heard a shout, and Piper and I ducked behind the seats as the shots started. Their blood already up from watching the fight, the raiders were energized, vicious, and distinctly sloppy. It was the only factor in our favor, but it was enough.

“I believe they don’t appreciate people who aren’t raiders entering!”

“No shit, Blue! You really are the world's second best detective!”

I leapt out of range of a grenade, "Second best?!"

"Gotta respect the classics, Blue! Nicky'll always be on top!"

Drawing my blade, I charged the raider attempting to bash her head in, "I don't see what that has to do with his skills as a detective."

She groaned and shot the raider at point blank, a touch overkill considering my sword was already through his lung, "I did not need to know that!"

"Know what? Emotional connection should have no bearing on an analysis of skill."

"You're infuriating."

"Down!" I pulled her to the floor as a new barrage of bullets flew.

The fight was longer than I would have liked, and Valentine would be displeased with the cut on my forehead and bruise across the right side of my face, a gunshot wound through my left bicep, but we were the victors. Piper fared better than I, though I did see her apply a stimpak into her leg at one point.

When all finally fell quiet, we surveyed the bloodied theater. "Seriously," she asked quietly, "you don't think your partner's just as good a detective as you?"

I smiled, "I believe he is exactly as good as I am."

"But not better," she grinned.

"I anticipate it being a common topic of mutual teasing throughout our life together."

"Hey!" a voice called from the direction of the cage, "You done killing each other out there?" Hiding in the cage was an auburn-haired ghoul in a worn old business suit and a fierce, thin woman with shabby deep red hair in a leather corset and pants. They stood as we approached, the ghoul commenting, “Well. That could have gone worse.”

“Pretty good show from where I was sittin’,” the woman said.

“Are you high?” the ghoul scolded, then, “What am I sayin’, of course you are.”

“Still winnin’ the fight, wasn’t I?” the woman demanded.

“You’re strung out and getting sloppy is what you are. ‘Course, guess we don’t have to worry about that,” he turned to Piper and I, “since these two just put us out of business. I don’t know if I should kiss you or have my little bird here feed you your own entrails.”

“I told ya’ to stop callin’ me that!”

“Not our fault you cater to raiders,” Piper huffed.

“Who are you, exactly?” I asked.

“Tommy Lonegan,” the ghoul replied. “This is my place… was my place. We used to serve a more legit clientele, but about two years ago a gang of raiders rolled in and we became a more, uh, exclusive establishment. But, keeping those idiots entertained was what kept the lights on. Not exactly sure what we’re gonna do now.”

The fighter scoffed, “To hell with ‘em. More’ll come. Just need a quick breather and I’ll be ready to go.”

Mr. Lonegan was disgusted, “A breather? What, so you can slam more of that junk into your arm? No. No, you know what? I think this was a blessing in disguise. You caught the end of that bout,” he asked me, “what’d ya think of Cait’s work?”

I was wary. “Why do you ask?”

“Consider it professional curiosity. Now what’d ya think of the fight?”

“I hardly saw anything to judge by, but she seems talented.”

“Least someone knows skill when they see it,” Cait muttered.

“It ain’t your fightin’ skills I’m concerned with,” Mr. Lonegan rebutted, a businessman’s pitch in his voice, “So here’s my predicament. I suddenly got no audience. No audience means I got no caps coming in. And if you ain’t bringing in caps, little bird, you ain’t an asset, you’re a liability. To me, and to yourself. So here’s what I’m thinking. What say I let you take over her contract? She goes with you, watches your back…” he faltered at my skepticism, “look, you’d be doin’ me a favor while I try to get the place back in order. What do ya’ say?”

Cait was incredulous. “Me? And him?”

“Why would you want her to go with me?” I asked.

“Yeah, Tommy,” Cait demanded, “just why the hell you trying to get rid of me?”

Lonegan sighed. “Look, truth is, all that junk, it’s been making you careless. And I don’t want to be the one doing color commentary when you finally hit the floor. Alright? So just do me this favor, both of you. Please.”

He was clearly concerned for her safety. Sending her with me would keep her out of the way while he tried to pick up the pieces of his ruined enterprise, yes… but I wondered if he knew exactly who he was sending her with. I didn’t much care for the idea; what use had I for a cage fighter’s contract? But I was better than any number of alternatives. The vast majority of them, in fact. 

“Very well,” I said.

“What?” Piper said behind me.

Cait was not so easily swayed either, “Don’t I get a say in all this?”

Lonegan was stern, “That ain’t how a contract works. Besides, you really wanna stay here? No audience, no caps. No one to talk to but yours truly?”

Cait rolled her eyes, “Jesus, point taken.”

Lonegan smiled, “Good. It’s settled, then. And here,” he handed me a bag of caps, “it’s the purse from the last fight.”

“This isn’t necessary -”

“Call it an exterminator’s fee,” he grinned.

Cait took a step toward me and stopped, turning back to her former employer, “Now wait just a second. What exactly are you gonna do without me here?”

Lonegan sounded hopeful, “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll get this place set up right, maybe find a less blood-soaked clientele. Now get the hell out of here.” He softened, “You ain’t welcome anymore, little bird.”

Cait shook her head, “You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that, Tommy?”

He smiled warmly, “You don’t have to tell me. Now go on.”

Piper’s whisper was urgent and harsh as we left, “A cage-fighter?! Blue, what the hell?”

“Given her alternatives, I didn’t see much choice.”

“Christ, Blue, you and your strays.”

“Miss Cait,” I said, “my name is Holmes, and this is Piper Wright. Do you need to gather anything before we go?”

She shrugged, and picked up a shotgun from a dead raider. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

“Nick better not blame me for any of this,” Piper muttered.

I sighed, and led the way back to Diamond City. I hadn’t the slightest idea what use I would have for a former cage-fighter, but perhaps at the very least my family might take some comfort in my having a bodyguard. I found Valentine at the Agency; he and Ellie were going through the files when we walked in. “Nick, you have files from cases that have been dead ends for longer than I’ve been alive,” Ellie was saying.

“Can’t bring myself to toss any of ‘em out,” he shrugged. “Never know when - well, if it isn’t my favorite former icicle,” he said with a smile as he saw me. 

“I’ve returned in a timely fashion,” I protested.

He chuckled, “Glad to have you back. Who’s our new friend?”

I introduced Cait, and explained how I came to be in possession of her contract, such as it was. Valentine was skeptical, but remained polite. Cait was taciturn. We ultimately decided that Cait could use the spare bed in the Agency for now, upon Ellie's suggestion. That much settled, I showed Cait around town. She was impressed under the cynicism, and amazingly humbled by Vadim when we stopped at the Dugout. Apparently, 14 shots is a hard record to break, even for her. Valentine wanted all the details later, and is not particularly pleased with the situation.

"I don't want to complain about another pair of eyes watching your back," he said, "but I'm not convinced this particular set is going to be a good one."

I can't say I disagree, but I've decided to give her a chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Radio Freedom reported that the Starlight Drive-In had suffered a recent spike in insect attacks and raider harassment. Volunteers were needed to help keep any potential dangers occupied while additional security measures were built. I saw this as the perfect chance to test my new bodyguard's capabilities, and compatibility. We headed northwest.

The trip was mostly silent, apart from Cait’s occasional humming. I was happy to share the occasional cigarette with her, reasoning it was better than the syringe of psycho in her pack. She was skilled at sneaking past raiders and super mutants, though she grumbled something about “itching for a fight.” It wasn’t until we made camp for the night that she finally asked what our purpose was.

“We’re going to the Starlight Drive-In settlement to assist in strengthening their defenses. They’ve had some trouble with raiders.”

“Raiders, eh? Bunch of nobs if you ask me.”

Little more was said on the subject. The only disturbance during the night was a pair of bloodbugs and a radroach, earning a "Damn bugs, disgusting," from Cait after she smashed them with a baseball bat. We continued our trip up early in the morning and reached the Starlight Drive-In near noon.

As the projection screen came into view, Cait said, "I knew a bloke who owned a movie projector. He only had this one movie about a talkin' dog. It was shite, but heck, beggars can't be choosers."

I smiled at the image of this violent woman sitting and watching a plotless comedy. I took the anecdote to be a sign that she was starting to relax. She'd held a tense energy since the trip started, and I suspected that not all of it was related to her chem use. 

Before we left Diamond City, Cait had opted to spend the first night drinking Vadim's patrons under a bar until he himself put her in one of the Dugout's beds, half charge (a one-time discount because he liked her and she's a "friend" of mine). Yefim informed me she woke "like a frightened animal" but immediately calmed down when he reminded her where she was. She wandered Diamond City for the morning, and came back to the house only after Valentine had left. Codsworth said she was brusque and clearly bored, but she was surprisingly pleasant to Shaun before he went out to play with Nat. She is not fond of Dogmeat, and the feeling seems to be mutual. Eventually, she made her way to the Agency just as Valentine and I were leaving for the night. I confess, her suspicion toward him has colored my opinion of her, even though I know full well it's the same reaction almost everyone has upon first meeting him. I try to remain rational whenever he is concerned, but some days are more difficult than others. Ellie reported that Cait was civil, tried to flirt with her a few times, and slept fitfully.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by a rumbling beneath my feet just before a radscorpion burst from the earth.

"Radscorp!" Cait shouted, "Don't let it sting ya!"

"I'm well aware!"

As Cait tumbled out of reach of its claws, I reminded myself to find some adequate armor for her. A laser blast from afar announced the arrival of one of the Drive-In's guards. The creature's attention turned to me as I fired at it. Cait seemed to take this as a personal slight.

"Skitterin' little shite!" she shouted as she fired her shotgun, "Come here!"

By now the Minuteman guard had reached us, his laser musket a welcome addition to the fight. Between the three of us the radscorpion fell, and the former cage-fighter scoffed triumphantly. The Minuteman chuckled, "You two headed for Starlight?"

"Yes," I said, amused. I didn't recognize this soldier, and the sensation was apparently mutual, "I heard you've been having trouble with raiders?"

"Yeah, odd bunch came through. We've been waiting for The Castle to send someone to lend a hand, but we'll gladly take help if you're offering."

"Yes. Lead the way." We started walking, "Wouldn't you expect help to come from Sanctuary, as it's closer?"

He was surprised, "You know Sanctuary?"

"Quite well."

"Huh. You one of the settlers up there?"

"I used to live there," I said, which was not a lie.

He nodded, "Haven't been there myself. They send the recruits that finish training to The Castle for assignments. Sort of a right of passage. I don't really understand why we need special training anyway, what we had before was always enough, but I guess our new General is fond of it."

"You haven't met him?"

"No, I got here just after he last passed through, just my luck. But one of the ladies at Starlight is Sanctuary-trained, and she's a hell of a shot and eager to please. Ronnie back at the Castle seems to like General Holmes, weird as he is."

"Weird?"

"Doesn't do much you'd expect from a General. Hardly ever wears the uniform, trusts Ronnie and that Garvey fella to run his army for him while he works as a detective?"

I chuckled, "It is unorthodox but, in my defense, the General uniform is horrifically impractical." 

He blinked. Cait's timing was superb, "Oi, Holmes! Any chance a girl could get a drink in this place? Killin' giant crawlies always gets me thirst up."

"Assuming the rooftop bar is still in business," I grinned at our host's shock. "I do make a point of regularly visiting settlements, but I'm afraid I haven't stayed in Starlight recently. The last time I was here, Strong was still a resident."

The Minuteman remembered how to speak, "I heard about him! Everyone's been saying they're glad he's gone, but at least they didn't have to worry about raiders when he was here."

"I believe that." I held out a hand, "Apologies, we were never properly introduced."

"Name's Harrison," he shook my hand a moment before awkwardly realizing he should be saluting, "and I know who you are, sir. Uh, now."

I turned to introduce Cait, but she was already halfway to the concession stand, the fenced roof of which held a bar. So instead I asked, "What measures have been taken against the raiders, and what further assistance do you need?"

With a distinct professionalism, Harrison explained the security currently in place and outlined his ideas for improving it. He hoped to build two more guard posts and a number of traps around the perimeter, plus two more machine turrets. Construction on the guard posts was already underway, and the Sanctuary-trained Minuteman he'd mentioned earlier (a woman by the name of Carter) was overseeing the traps and turrets. I wondered if Sturges had been an influence on her field of interest.

I immediately set to work helping wherever I could, from construction to electronics to filling in guard shifts. Cait could at least be coaxed to help stand guard for short bursts through the day, but wanted nothing to do with manual labor. This ended up being to our benefit, because as the sun was just starting to set we heard her shout, "Good, I was hopin' to get in some target practice!"

Harrison had called the raiders who had last attacked the settlement an "odd bunch." Carter had provided further detail, describing them as "raiders with a robot fetish." I now understood what she meant.

Every raider attacking wore armor that looked like it had been stripped from a robot. Helmets made from eyebots, chest plates of a sentry bot, and limbs covered in an assortment of melded metals. Yet, they were still raiders, and charged the defenses with typical lack of organization.

I realized the Minutemen were waiting for my orders, and so I did my best impressions of Preston and Danse as I shouted instructions to soldier and settler alike. I had at least learned enough from my friends to hold back some raiders, even if they were more heavily armored than usual, and the settlement was successful with several injuries but no casualties.

Cait strode up to me with an aggressive confidence as the dust settled, beaming, "Nothing makes me happier than stompin' a bunch of Raiders."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said. "Your help was certainly appreciated." Carter was already seeing to the wounded and Harrison seeing to repairs of the defenses, so I turned my efforts to repairing houses. Cait, needing an outlet for her energy, tried to help.

"Only ever used these things to bash someone's head in," she said as she lifted a hammer.

"If you want to swing something destructive, you could use that axe and split that fallen tree over there," I suggested. "It won't be much use in construction, but it'll be cold tonight and the settlement is low on firewood."

"Prefer hittin' things that bleed, but sure," she said, and set to her task.

The repairs as well as finishing the defenses took the rest of the day. I decided we should stay the night and begin the trip back to Diamond City at first light. There was a single spare bed, which I told Cait she was welcome to as I was satisfied with a sleeping bag. She glared at me suspiciously, but didn't argue.

I settled into place and lit a cigarette. I silently offered her one as she perched on the edge of the bed. She took it, and after a moment said, "You know, after Tommy stuck me with you, I was expectin' to hate your guts."

I tried not to smirk, "I can only imagine." 

"I keep waitin' for you to order me around like hired help. But you haven't. Hell, you've been damn near nice to me. Now I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but your kindness is startin' to make me wonder. If there's anythin' I learned at the Combat Zone, it was that nobody does things for other people without expectin' somethin' in return."

I watched her closely, quietly alarmed. "What exactly do you think I'm expecting in return?"

"Who knows?" She shrugged, irritated, "Doin' your laundry, takin' a bullet for you, haulin' your gear... what's the difference?" She sighed, "I don't think I'm getting' through to you. Let me explain what I mean, and then maybe you'll understand where I'm comin' from."

She told me of the three years she spent living in the Combat Zone before the raiders arrived. After they moved in, buying friends was essential to avoiding violence, or worse. She was waiting for me to hand her the bill, as it were.

I wish I could say I was surprised. "You don't owe me a thing."

"Now I'm havin' a real hard time believin' that."

"I don't doubt it. However, believe me or not, it remains true." 

She thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what. Give me some time, and I'll think of somethin' I can do to repay you. I'm not a rich girl, but I'm sure we can agree on somethin'."

I smiled, "If you insist."

She shrugged again and lay down to sleep. "What are friends for?"


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning we ate, smoked, and started back to Diamond City. Cait’s aggressive energy from yesterday had disappeared into a sour depression.

"I don't understand these Minutemen. Why the hell would you bother helpin' a bunch of lowlife farmers and settlers for free?"

"Those lowlife farmers and settlers are people trying to survive. By helping them, the Minutemen hope to make the Commonwealth a better place to live."

She scoffed, "And you're the man in charge o' this do-gooder nonsense."

"I am."

"Ask me to salute and all you'll be seein' is me middle finger."

"I don't ask anyone to salute, but they do anyway." I switched on my Pip-Boy's radio to check both Radio Freedom and the Valentine Agency signal… and found something else entirely.

_“This is an emergency broadcast. Our caravan is under attack by hostile robots, and need some serious help. We're just east of Wattz Consumer Electronics. Anyone in the vicinity can come help, now is the time. Ada, loop this message.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

"Guess we're goin' that way?" Cait sighed as I started running.

"Aren't you always looking for a fight?"

"Fightin’ a robot’s like hittin' a trashcan, but I suppose I'll take it."

We found them northeast of the old electronics warehouse. The caravan was under attack by half a dozen robots the likes of which I'd never seen before. They were all assembled from scrap, an amalgam of parts turned into deadly mobile weapons. Who had built these things?

A modified assaultron fought on the side of the caravan, along with a few other robots. I hurried to assist, even though the bodies lying next to the fallen brahmin told me we were too late. The air was full of smoke and the smell of electricity as lasers fired and unstable engines exploded. When the carnage was over, the only things left standing were myself, Cait, and the caravan's assaultron.

The assaultron approached a man lying in the dirt. "Jackson, someone has answered your distress call. Jackson?" She paused, the reality around her registering. "My friends… did not survive the attack." She turned to me, "Thank you for assisting. I was certain to meet my end here as well."

"We came as fast as we could when we heard your distress call," I said. "Are you alright?"

"Thanks to your timing, my diagnostics show only superficial damage. I wish I could say the same for my late friends."

Cait scoffed, "Looks like it was your lucky day."

"Cait," I scolded.

"An interesting choice of words," the assaultron said. She sounded conflicted.

Cait didn't notice. "What sort of robot are you, anyhow?"

"I am heavily modified, but at my core, I am an assaultron. My name is Ada. This was the third time we'd been attacked by robots like these. Even with the weapon and detection upgrades Jackson gave me, I was unable to defend them."

"The third time?" I asked. "They must be targeting you for a reason."

"Probability is high that I am part of that reason," Ada stated. She gestured to three fallen robots among the caravan, "Besides myself, Jackson also created Turing, Hurtz, and Porter. Our built in modifications would be desired pieces of salvage."

"Who was Jackson?"

"Jackson was the leader of this caravan. He had a great mind for technology. In many ways, he is my creator. He installed all my current upgrades. Unfortunately, they were not enough to protect them from the robots. Perhaps if I had more sentry bot based defenses, I could have successfully defended my friends."

I cut off Cait's response, "Tell me about these robots."

"They roam the Commonwealth and claim to be restoring order. We’ve seen them fighting raiders, but they’ve also attacked innocents. Settlers, merchants, and caravans like ours. We knew we ran the risk of encountering more of these hostile robots if we stayed in the Commonwealth. If only we had made the decision to leave."

Restoring order? They were either horrifically malfunctioning or they were programmed by a psychopath. That aside, "You couldn’t have known something like this would happen."

"The probability of attack was high. I should have forced our departure. In recompense, I will seek justice for my friends and stop these robots from causing further harm. I will uncover the source and confront their leader; the Mechanist."

Cait snorted. The name sounded like a joke, I admit, but it also sounded strangely familiar. "Who’s the Mechanist?"

"The only information I have comes from eyebot broadcasts. The false claims of peace and justice... the only certainty is that these robots bring only death."

I frowned. "Finding and confronting this person will be a dangerous undertaking."

Ada considered me a moment. "For me alone, it certainly is. You have shown willingness to aid others. I ask that you please assist me in stopping this Mechanist. In return, I can give you the schematics to build your own robot workbench, like the one Jackson used to build me, so you have additional resources in this undertaking."

Cait was suspicious, "Didn’t know robots could want revenge."

"I admit my goal is twofold. Stopping the Mechanist both protects the Commonwealth and allows me to avenge my fallen friends. I won't rest until I see this threat dissolved. I owe it to them."

If this Mechanist person was threatening the Commonwealth, then the Minutemen would be called on to address the threat. "I’ll do it."

"I wish I had the proper vocal registry to express my gratitude. Now, we last saw a group of the Mechanist robots at the General Atomics Factory. You may find information there that will lead us to the Mechanist. I will follow and assist with your permission."

"Of course, Ada. My name is Holmes, this is Cait. Would you object to stopping at Diamond City first? There's someone else there who could assist."

"That is reasonable. It is on the way to the factory, and more people assisting will greatly increase the probability for our survival and success."

"Why are we standin' round?" Cait huffed, and we started south.

Diamond City Security is becoming accustomed to me walking through the gates with strange companions. "Oh come on, Mr. Holmes. Ain't enough you got your own robot butler, now you got an assaultron?"

"She's not mine, she's a client."

"Client? Robots can be clients?"

As we passed, a second guard muttered to the first, "He's sleeping with one, why not?"

The first turned on him, "Hey, Nicky ain't a robot, and that's none of our damn business."

Ada was understandably confused. "Excuse me, sir, I did not understand that exchange."

"I'm a detective," I explained, "as well as the General of the Minutemen.”

"He probably ain't even gonna charge you for his help," Cait grumbled.

“As for the rest,” I continued, “it will make sense shortly.”

I stopped at the house first. “Codsworth?”

He soared in from the workshop, “Mr. Holmes, welcome home, sir - Oh! We have a guest.”

“Codsworth, this is Ada. Her caravan was recently destroyed. I’m going to help her find the person responsible.”

“Oh my. I’m sorry for your loss,” he said to her, “but don’t fret. My master is just the man to see justice done to the villain.”

“Thank you,” Ada said. “He seemed most capable in combat, and I have heard positive rumors of the Minutemen he said he leads.”

“Absolutely,” Codsworth confirmed with pride. “Mr. Valentine will no doubt be joining you as well, which puts you in the best hands in the Commonwealth. Ah, he should be at the Agency I believe, Mr. Holmes.”

“Thank you, Codsworth, I’ll find him,” I said. “I’ll ask Ada to wait here with you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, sir, couldn’t be happier to keep a lady company. It isn’t often I get to talk to a new robot. And, if I may say, madam, I’ve never met an assaultron with such distinct modifications as yours.”

Cait groaned and hurried out the door. I followed. “I don’t think I’ve heard him flirt before,” I mused.

“I would’ve laughed at or decked any guy that tried a line like that on me,” Cait said.

“I can imagine.” I stopped her outside the Agency’s door, “Cait, you don’t have to come with me if you aren’t interested in helping. I’m not doing this for pay, I feel it is a responsibility to stop whoever this madman creating robots is. I know you have no love of the Minutemen philosophy, or robots, or my partner who will be accompanying us.”

She shrugged, "I figure makin’ sure you aren’t killed by robots might be a way to repay you."

"You don’t have to repay me for anything."

"Debt’s debt, and I don’t like owin’. So, we gonna go rip up some more circuits or not?"

I sighed, defeated, and we went inside the Agency.

Valentine was finishing business with a client. Ellie sat at the front desk, a carefully neutral expression on her face. The man paid my partner, said thank you, and left without a word. Everyone relaxed.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Ungrateful asshole,” Ellie grumbled.

“Not the most pleasant of men,” Valentine said, “but he paid and didn’t haggle.”

I frowned. “What happened?” I repeated, serious.

“Relax, partner,” Valentine smiled softly, “nothin’ happened I’m not used to. How’d it go at Starlight Drive-In?”

The client had either been dismissive of Valentine’s humanity or blatantly offensive in reference to his mechanical nature. I ignored my defensive frustration and focused, “The security around the settlement is improved, I expect they’ll be fine for the immediate future, but we have more pressing concerns. There is a client waiting for us at the house.”

“At the house?”

“She’s talking with Codsworth. She’s a modified assaultron.”

“An assaultron?” Ellie exclaimed.

“Those girls pack a punch,” Valentine mused. “What’s one want with some detectives?”

“Her caravan was attacked. She was the only survivor.”

“And she wants to find the folks responsible,” Valentine nodded, somber. Many of his clients come looking for the same thing. I had been one of them.

“We already know that,” Cait said, growing impatient, “we just have to wreck enough robots til we find where the madman’s hidin’ out.”

Valentine was... puzzled. “I trust the lady waiting at the house is going to fill in the details,” he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the desk drawer, “but what’s your interest, Cait?”

“Interest? I got a contract with Holmes to follow him around, so that’s what I’m doin’.” Valentine glanced at me, clearly skeptical. Cait bristled and said to me, "Good thing he wears that coat to tell him from the rest of the scrap metal I'm gonna be shooting at. Find me when you're ready to go." She walked out.

"Explain to me why the hell I'm putting up with this charming new friend of yours," Valentine lit a cigarette. "Better yet, explain why you're letting her run with you in the first place."

“She wants to repay me,” I said.

“For what?” Valentine demanded with a scowl.

"She doesn't seem the type to feel grateful," Ellie added.

I nodded, “She’s brash, selfish, and apparently doesn’t have a compassionate bone in her body, not to mention her opinions of synths... and yet, she insists that she owes a debt to me, and keeping me from being killed seems to be the method of repayment she has deemed appropriate.”

Valentine frowned, “You still haven’t said why she thinks she owes you.”

“I believe it’s because I treat her like a person.”

Valentine was perfectly still for a long moment. Then slowly, his expression softened, his stance shifting as cigarette smoke curled through the gaps in his neck. “Guess I can’t argue with that. How about I meet this client of yours?”

I introduced Valentine to Ada, who remarked on how fascinating it was to meet a mechanical model of synth that wasn't hostile. He took it in stride, and Ada repeated her story. Shaun had brought Nat Wright over, and they listened with full attention. Codsworth made it known he would gladly accompany us, but couldn't abandon his duty to Shaun. As Piper was out of town on unknown business, he also felt responsible for Nat. Ada thanked him and praised his devotion to protecting his family. With a smile, Valentine took that as our cue to head out. 

"Let's round up your bodyguard and hit the road," he said. We didn't have to go far; Cait was coming back from Solomon's chem shop next door as I left the house. She wordlessly fell in line alongside us, and together Valentine, Ada, Cait, and I headed east in search of the Mechanist's robots.


	4. Chapter 4

The trip east was fairly quiet, at least concerning my companions. The super mutants, raiders, Gunners, and ferals that make up Boston’s populace were as violent as ever. Ada is formidable, despite her convictions that her defensive capabilities should be improved. Valentine saved Cait from a Gunner’s missile, which she repaid by blasting her way through a pack of ferals that took him by surprise.

“Your contract’s with Holmes, not me!” he scolded her.

“Yer boyfriend and that wicked sword of his are fuckin’ fine!” The last feral fell, “Damn shamblers give me the creeps. There, now we’re even, you and me.”

Valentine was puzzled, “Even?”

“For knockin’ me out o’ the way of that tattooed cretin’s missile. I keep tellin’ Holmes, I don’t like owin’ debt to anyone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Word of advice though, it’s bad manners to steal cigarettes off the guy you’re supposedly saving.”

Cait laughed, and tossed him the pack.

I decided that rather than attack General Atomics immediately, we should first stop by the Castle, as it was just south of the factory and the sun was already setting. We could rest and prepare, and alert the Minutemen to the Mechanist’s threat. As it turned out, the Minutemen were already aware of the hostile robots roaming the Commonwealth.

“General!” Ronnie Shaw greeted us as we entered, “Sure do have impeccable timing.”

That likely wasn’t a good sign. “Do I?”

“Just missed the Brotherhood vertibird dropping a messenger by our front door. Said their scouts had noticed you coming this way.” She held up a holotape, clearly annoyed if not offended that the Brotherhood would be spying on the area. “This is for you.”

I took the tape, labeled “For General Holmes Only” in block letters. “Before I deal with this, the reason I’m here is--”

“Robots.”

I blinked, “Yes.”

Shaw nodded, “Got word from Sanctuary, we’re scrambling reinforcements to every checkpoint and settlement near where they’ve been spotted. Can’t reinforce everywhere yet, spread us too thin, but we can at least bolster the known threat zones.”

“Ah. How did Sanctuary--”

“One of our provisioners was attacked, we let Sanctuary know. Then word came in from MacCready about robots at the Ironworks, and Colonel Garvey got right to work alerting everyone to keep an eye out for robots built from scrap terrorizing folks. Good commander, that Colonel of yours.” 

I smiled, “I hope to justify his faith in me to be the same. We have a plan to find the person responsible for these robots. Ada,” I gestured to her, “believes that we will find some in the General Atomics factory north of here, and they might provide us with the information we need.”

“It’s a start at least.” Shaw glanced at the holotape in my hand, "Your quarters are as you left them."

I thanked her, and took the holotape to the quarters reserved for the General. My companions followed, Valentine because he was concerned, Cait because she was bored, and Ada because she had nowhere else to go. I played the tape on my Pip Boy. 

_“This is Elder Maxson speaking to General Holmes. My reason for contacting you is two-fold. First, the situation between our organizations is reaching a breaking point. This truce cannot survive indefinitely. As I have no desire to declare war on the Minutemen, yet, I invite you to discuss the matter with me. Second, I have no doubt the Minutemen are aware of the hostile robots that have appeared in the Commonwealth. My Scribes have been unable to track their origin. You seem to have an uncanny ability to find that which is hidden. Therefore, I request your presence on the Prydwen to discuss the new threat to both Brotherhood and Minutemen forces in the Commonwealth, and to negotiate new terms between us to keep the peace. Bring your second and third in command with you, as a token of goodwill and to ensure that there is no miscommunication in the chain of command. I insist.”_

The recording ended.

"If Maxson thinks you're delivering Danse on a silver platter," Valentine said, "he's flipped his lid."

"Having Preston and I there adds a level of security for Danse," I pointed out.

"Unless he wants to wipe out the whole Minutemen command at once."

"He knows the Castle's artillery would destroy the Prydwen at the first sign of foul play. I'll contact Sanctuary first thing in the morning and see if Danse can shed some insight on his former commander's intentions."

Danse and Preston’s reactions were as I expected when I told them about Maxson’s request. 

“With all due respect, General,” Preston said over the radio, “what the fuck?”

“He is insistent that both you and the Lt. Colonel are present at the negotiations,” I said.

“No. There's--”

“Garvey,” Danse scolded, but Preston spoke over him.

“--no way this isn’t a trap!”

“With all three top ranking officers on board the Prydwen, Maxson is assured that the Minutemen will not strike at the Brotherhood,” Danse explained. “It’s a power play, a bit of arrogance perhaps, but it is not a trap. He will expect us to take precautions. If we do not contact the Minutemen after a set amount of time, then the Castle opens fire on the Prydwen. If Liberty Prime takes one step outside the airport, then the Castle opens fire on the Prydwen. Maxson will not risk his flagship being destroyed, especially not while he's still on it.”

I could hear Preston’s frown as he said, “I hate everything about this. This is not a good idea.”

“Good idea or not,” I said, “attending without you two will be taken as an insult, and could be the slim excuse Maxson needs to justify swift action.”

“Understood, General,” Danse said, ignoring Preston’s sigh, “We’ll meet you at the airport seventy-two hours from now.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

It was roughly a two day walk to the airport from the Castle, which gave us the day to investigate the General Atomics factory. We wasted no time; Ada wasn't certain what information we might find on the Mechanist's robots, if they were still in the factory, but it was the only lead we had and I had no intention of letting it slip through our grasp.

The Mechanist's robots were there, in greater strength than I'd expected. I was glad to have extra assistance. Cait barrelled through, recklessly but effectively blasting modified Mr. Handy's and eyebots out of the air while Ada's laser fire was a welcome addition to Valentine and my bullets against the robots on the ground. 

Each eyebot was broadcasting a message:

_"Attention, people of the Commonwealth! I, the Mechanist, have come to bring about an age of peace. Do not be alarmed. These robots are your allies, your protectors, and they will not rest until the Commonwealth is saved. Together we will restore justice and bring about the dawn of a new age."_

"Can't these things shut up!" Cait shouted.

"I think the Mechanist and I have very different definitions of the word 'saved,'" Valentine added.

"He can't actually mean any of that rot," Cait continued. "If he does, he's loony."

"Considering he built an army of scrapbots," Valentine grunted as his fight with what once may have been a protectron went to fisticuffs, "I'd say he's probably pretty nuts!"

Then the robobrain armored like a tank appeared. "Aim for the brain!" I shouted, dodging a swing of its tesla-coil arm. Ada and I fired as Cait and Valentine did their best to keep the other robots still standing occupied.

With a shudder and a crackle of electricity across its surface, the robobrain fell. Tense silence settled. When it was clear no more robots would be coming around any corners, we relaxed.

"What the hell is that thing?" Cait asked.

"It's called a robobrain," I said, "though I've never seen one so weaponized before." I'd only ever seen them inside the Vault near Far Harbor, and those were much smaller compared to this one.

She stepped closer, "Is that… is that a person's brain in there?"

I nodded, "It is."

"That's disgustin'."

"I agree."

“According to my data banks,” Ada said, “the robobrain was considered one of the most technologically superior robots ever constructed, but the model never reached full production status.”

"Wonder where this one came from," Valentine said.

Cait huffed, already bored by the conversation, "So how're we going to find the Mechanist with these heaps of junk?" 

"We look for clues," I said, and got to work.

Ada, Valentine, and I searched the robots while Cait paced the room.

Valentine whispered to me, "Holmes, that woman has more psycho in her than is healthy."

"There's a healthy dosage of psycho?"

"You know what I mean. She took a hit, took a stimpak after snapping her arm back in place, and then took a second psycho for good measure. I'm amazed her heart hasn't exploded."

I sighed, "There's nothing I can do about it now, and I doubt she'll welcome conversation, especially with the state she's in."

"The crash ain't gonna be great either."

"What do you want me to do?"

He was quiet a moment, shaking his head. "I don't know. She's done her job so far, I'll give her that much, but she's gonna fall apart soon.”

"Are you detectives looking or flirting?" Cait shouted from across the room. "Hell of a lot more quiet chat than discovery goin' on."

"Jealous?" Valentine called back.

"Of you?"

“Enough,” I interrupted. “Ada, any luck?”

“I have not yet discovered a significant indicator of origin,” Ada reported.

“I’m going to look over the robobrain again,” Valentine said.

I approached Cait. “Valentine tells me you were injured?”

She was offended, “Stimpak patched me up just fine.”

“Good. And are you supplied for the trip north?”

"What?"

“Hey, Ada,” Valentine said, “My robot anatomy is a little rusty, but does this look like something interesting?”

He held up a device, which Ada examined. “Impressive technology. If my analysis is correct, this is a specialized radar beacon. I suspect it's how the Mechanist was keeping track of the robobrain. Thank you, Mr. Valentine, this may be exactly what we needed.” Ada turned to me, “As the next logical step, I need you to install this beacon within me so we can use it to our advantage.”

“Install it?” I admit, I balked at the prospect. Modifying weapons and armor, even building traps and turrets were one thing. Installing a radar beacon into a sophisticated robot seemed to be something else entirely.

“You'll need to use a robot workbench to ensure proper installation,” Ada explained. “I have the schematics. Do you want to return to the Castle to build it?”

“No,” I said, “not the Castle. There is an engineer out west who would be just the man for the job, and the location far enough away from the Brotherhood’s patrols to avoid attention.”

We decided that Valentine and Ada would leave for Sanctuary and tell Sturges about the robot workbench Ada’s creator invented, while Cait and I would make our way north to meet Danse and Preston at the airport. Valentine wasn’t thrilled with the plan, but he didn’t have a better suggestion, either.

I had already told Ms. Shaw about my meeting with Maxson before we left. As Danse suggested, I gave her explicit instructions for action to take should anything seem amiss. And so Cait and I started the walk north to the Prydwen.


	5. Chapter 5

I wanted to travel as far as possible the first day, resulting in an exhausted Cait and I seeking shelter at Bunker Hill late at night. They had a bed available, which Cait insisted I take this time, while she took the bedroll on the floor.

“You’re out of psycho,” I stated.

“I’m out of everythin’,” she grumbled.

“Withdrawal is hellish, but it’s better than dying.” She rolled her eyes. I pressed, “Even if Mr. Lonegan hadn’t mentioned your habit of ‘pumping junk into your arm,’ your scars tell more than enough.”

“What’s it matter to you as long as I’m doin’ my job?” she challenged.

“You won’t be able to continue doing your job if you don’t stop.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’d know,” she sneered. “Here I thought you were a detective, not a doctor.”

“No,” I removed the bracer on my left arm and rolled up my shirtsleeve, “I’m simply the voice of experience.”

I leaned over, the lantern light between us illuminating my skin. She stared at the old needle marks, the remaining scars along the veins in my arm for a long moment, her eyes hard, mouth tight. I rolled down my sleeve, and laid down to sleep. The lantern went out, and all was silent.

In the morning, I worried I’d gone too far. I had no experience discussing addiction with another addict. My own recoveries were all instigated by people who loved me, not a practical stranger trying to give anecdotes of his own experiences. So neither of us spoke as we continued along the river down to Boston Airport. We avoided the East City Downs, and were surprised to find a pack of ferals dead further up ahead.

“Someone’s been busy,” Cait muttered, the first words she’d said to me all day.

I nodded, “The piles of ashes and precision required for some of these shots makes me think someone trained with a laser weapon was responsible.”

“Gunners?”

“This isn’t quite their territory. The Brotherhood of Steel is more likely, especially as we’re approaching their base of operations.”

“What’s your business with these toy soldiers, anyway? Why does the guy in charge of them want to start a war with you?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh Christ, don’t tell me you believe that shite.”

I couldn’t. I hoped… but I honestly didn’t know. “The Minutemen protect everyone in the Commonwealth, be they human, ghoul, or synth. The Brotherhood take issue with that policy.”

Her eyes widened. “Synths. The machines that pretend to be people, that replace them?”

“The Institute is gone; all the synths want is to live in peace.”

“And you believe them?”

“It isn’t their fault they were made.”

She shuddered, “Just the idea gives me the shivers. How can you trust a thing that pretends to be somethin’ it’s not?”

“Some synths don’t even know they’re synths. Some do, and choose to hide that fact to keep themselves safe.”

Cait shook her head, unconvinced, “I wouldn’t waste my trust on ‘em.”

“Would you trust anyone?”

“Trustin’ you so far, ain’t I?” she snapped.

I had to concede, “That’s true.” And again, nothing more was said between us. I don’t know how to talk to this woman. 

It was well into the night when we found Danse and Preston waiting two blocks down from the airport entrance. “Gentlemen,” I said, giving them plenty of time to see it was me approaching in the dark, not an enemy. The headlamp from Danse’s helmet suddenly illuminated me. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“We got here a couple hours ago, General,” Preston said. He looked at Cait, “Who’s this?”

“This is Cait, former cage-fighter turned bodyguard. Cait, Colonel Preston Garvey and the Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen.” She was unimpressed and bored, but didn’t make any comment. “Thank you for joining me, both of you.”

“You nearly had a mutiny on your hands,” Danse said.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Preston frowned. “I’ll follow your orders, sir, but I don’t like it this time. I still think this is a dangerous idea.”

I nodded, “I understand, but as much as Maxson enjoys trying to intimidate me, I need to know what he has planned. Any information I can glean during this meeting will be helpful, and the best way to keep him amicable and willing to talk is to humor his demands.”

Preston sighed, “I’ll follow your lead. Let’s get this over with.”

“Maxson is probably awake,” Danse said, “but there’s a chance he’s retired for the night.”

“Maxson insisted this was urgent,” I said, “and here we are. We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

I asked Cait to wait, hidden, and keep an eye out for trouble. If we didn’t return in an hour, she was to go to Nordhagen settlement on the east side of the peninsula and alert Radio Freedom.

“Sure you wanna trust me with that?” she grumbled.

“Yes,” I said, and I meant it. “You’re quick, you can hide, your pain tolerance is impressively unhealthy, and I have no doubt you’ll obliterate any obstacle in your way.”

She rolled her eyes, but I think she might have been pleased. “If this is your version of flirtin’, no wonder you’re datin’ a machine. Stop gabbin’ and get in there, I’ll watch for you.”

We approached the airport. “Former cage-fighter, General?” Preston asked.

“Combat Zone.”

Preston frowned. “That doesn’t explain… oh. Oh hell no, man, you hired a Combat Zone fighter to be your bodyguard?”

“The rest of the clientele having been killed, she was out of a job. Her manager gave me her contract.”

“What?” He shook his head, “You know what, tell me later.”

We were stopped at the entrance by the armored Knight on guard duty. “I have an invitation from Elder Maxson,” I said.

The Knight nodded, “I have orders to escort you and your men. Follow me.” We followed. “Never seen a complete X-01 functional before,” the Knight commented. “Give you any trouble?”

“No,” Danse said, unwilling to say more for fear of recognition, but not wanting to be rude.

Preston saved him. “Holy shit,” he breathed. We were passing Liberty Prime. 

The Knight chuckled, “Yeah, I said that, too, the first time I saw him. Good thing robots can’t get bored.”

We reached the transport vertibird, and were taken up to the Prydwen. Preston gazed down off the edge a moment as we crossed the walkway, and quickly focused on facing forward. The Knight on guard on the ship was not as amiable as the one on the ground had been.

“Elder Maxson is expecting us.”

“Elder Maxson is busy. You’ll have to wait.”

“Then we will wait inside.” A cold wind blew, “Your Elder called this meeting, not us, and now you are delaying us. If this is on his order, then it is insulting, and if this is of your own initiative then you are being insubordinate.”

The Knight opened the door, “Follow me.”

“I know the way.”

“That doesn’t matter.” We were taken to the observation deck, and the Knight stood guard at the entrance.

“Shouldn’t someone alert the Elder to our arrival?” I asked him.

“You can’t be left unsupervised.”

“Wondered if I’d ever see you again,” a voice said from behind him.

All three of us stared at the grey-haired man in a black Brotherhood of Steel uniform. “Paladin Brandis?” Preston asked, surprised.

Brandis chuckled, “I clean up well enough. Going to be a while before I get back to my old routine, though. Cade won't clear me for duty yet. To think he's giving me orders, now.”

“Paladin,” the Knight began, and Brandis sighed. 

“You’ll find Maxson with Proctor Teegan. I’ll keep an eye on these three, Knight.” 

“Sir—”

“I may not be cleared for active duty, Knight, but I still outrank you.”

The Knight nodded once and hurried up to the next deck. Brandis shook his head, “He’s recently promoted. I admit, I'm worried about these recruits. Too young, too green. Not like the Initiates back in my day.” He spoke quietly to Preston, cognizant of the open door and ship’s bridge below us, “Listen. I didn't have a chance to thank you properly before. I want you to have my old gun. It kept me alive all those years, maybe it can do the same for you. It's not exactly regulation-issue, for either of us, but I hope it serves you as well as it served me.” He handed Preston a modified laser pistol.

“That's not necessary,” Preston tried to politely refuse, but Brandis just smiled.

“I understand our organizations aren’t exactly… friendly, at the moment. However, I insist. I’ll be honest; I’m not sure I still have a place here. I’ve been away for too long. But I’m going to give it time. I owe it to my team. You gave me another chance, and saved my skin in more ways than one. So, I want you to have this. I’ve got all the memories I need of that time, and it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

Preston sighed and took the gun, securing it under his duster. “Thank you. It really wasn’t anything special. Helping people who need it is what we do.”

“Good. Now, from what I understand, the Minutemen also help ghouls and synths.”

“That’s right. You want this back?”

Brandis snorted, amused. “No. I meant every word of what I said.” He turned his attention to me, “And you’re General Holmes. We… met?”

I nodded, “I tried to convince you to return to the Brotherhood before my men met you. I’m glad to see they succeeded where I failed.”

“Thank you for trying,” he said, sincere. “I understand you were quite the Initiate. Promoted all the way to Paladin in only a matter of months, and then abandoned the Brotherhood. Lots of people seem to think the reason you left is because you were forced to kill Danse. Everyone else thinks you were secretly a synth-sympathizer from the start. Sometimes you’re an Institute operative working with the synth, sometimes you’re a Railroad agent, the story gets more colorful each time someone tells it.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel and I shared a common goal; the destruction of the Institute. When I saw first-hand how little they value the life of those who have been faithful, when Danse was given no chance at explanation, no investigation into intent, only immediate and bitter execution, I found I couldn’t stomach any further association. It is one of my deepest regrets that the giant machine of death and destruction standing in the airport is there because of Danse and I.”

Brandis, of sane mind, is observant. He glanced at the man in power armor with the Minutemen symbol on his chest. “You used us. Used Danse.”

“Initially. I discovered, I admit to my surprise, that Paladin Danse was a good man under all that armor. I never felt like more of a fraud than when I was in his company. He was everything a good soldier should strive to be, and the Brotherhood threw him away.”

Something creaked overhead, causing Brandis to glance up with a shake of his head, “Never did like this rustbucket,” he muttered. “A fine ship, but put me in the field any day.” A glance over his shoulder alerted him to Maxson’s imminent arrival. He spoke clearly, louder than he had been before, “Well, I wanted to say thank you, and I have. I wouldn’t be here without your help. I would hate to put our respective loyalties against each other.”

“So would I, Paladin,” I shook his hand. “So would I.”

Brandis and Maxson greeted each other as they passed in the hall, Maxson pausing to ask how Brandis was recovering. Brandis appreciated the concern, and implied he was frustrated with Knight-Captain Cade's caution. Maxson nodded, said something encouraging, and Brandis continued back up to the main deck. Maxson's pleasant expression vanished as he stepped onto his observation deck. "General Holmes. I understand your men are responsible for the return of my Paladin."

I hadn't expected that. "Yes."

He looked at them, "Thank you." I believe he actually meant it. Before anyone could respond, he turned his attention back to me, "And thank you for coming, even if your timing could have been better."

"We are both busy men, Elder Maxson, and your invitation made this meeting sound urgent. I thought it best to arrive as quickly as possible regardless of minor inconveniences such as the time of day."

"So I see. Since we are, as you said, both busy men, I’ll skip further formality. I do not want to go to war with the Minutemen. You make it remarkably difficult to prevent that eventuality."

"I appreciate you being candid. I assure you, war is the last thing I want as well. However, I must stand by what I believe to be right and just."

"Unfortunately, what you consider to be 'right and just' is anathema to the Brotherhood. Synths are machines."

"They are people who happen to have been built instead of born."

"Enough of this. We agree any hostilities between Brotherhood and Minutemen would be detrimental to each. The Minutemen have the firepower to destroy the Prydwen, and the Brotherhood have Liberty Prime. You were dismissed from the Brotherhood for your support of Minutemen policy regarding synths and your choice of… living companion, though I doubt you noticed."

"On the contrary, that message was a lovely Boxing Day gift."

Maxson scowled, "This is serious, Holmes."

"I apologize, Elder," I conceded, "you’re right. The unfortunate truth is that I cannot see any way war can be prevented as long as you remain in the Commonwealth. You will strike at any synth you find. The Minutemen will defend that synth, if their only crime is existing. You have been searching for the Railroad—"

"We have found the Railroad. We have not attacked, because a single strike will merely send them into hiding, running through escape tunnels to form again at another base. We have to eliminate the entirety of the command, be certain no one will rise up again to help them, and unfortunately the General of the Minutemen also happens to be one of their agents."

I confess, I was surprised. "Ah. Interesting."

"Do not lie to me."

"I neither confirm nor deny what you have said. I simply add that it is an interesting conundrum."

“Why are you even here, anyway?” Preston asked. “You want to scavenge the Commonwealth for tech, go ahead, kill some ferals and mutants while you’re at it, but the Institute is gone. Wasn’t that your big mission, taking down the Institute? Why haven’t you gone home?”

“Synths are an example of the misuse of technology that nearly destroyed mankind in the first place. Men pretending to be gods without consequence to their actions is what unleashed super mutants, feral ghouls, every danger of the wasteland below us. Synths are one more abomination, and should be destroyed. As the Commonwealth is the sole source of the threat, we will remain until it is eliminated. I would prefer the Minutemen stay out of our way.”

“We’d prefer you leave.”

“Hence our impasse,” I cut in. “May I suggest, Elder, that for the moment peace can be centered around a common foe? You said in your invitation that you wanted me to look into the robot problem.”

“Yes. I have reports of eyebots in the company of robots built from scrap playing a recording from someone calling himself 'The Mechanist.'”

“I've heard similar accounts,” I said. “I’ve begun an investigation into the location of this Mechanist.”

“And your intention once the location is found?”

“Confront him, and stop him.”

“Alone?”

“I will inform the Minutemen of the location and provide instructions should I be unsuccessful. As you yourself witnessed, I tend to be most successful when I am able to act independently.”

“Then you propose the Brotherhood work with the Minutemen as far as defeating the robots attacking humans is concerned, and then once this Mechanist is defeated we will… cease our cooperation?”

“That does seem to be the outcome. Of course, you can’t prove a person is a synth, so there’s no reason for you to attack any Minutemen settlements.”

“The fact that you welcome everyone without questions asked guarantees that there are synths among your settlements. If, however, we eliminate the Railroad and you gave us the few synths we do know about--”

“Not a chance in hell,” Preston said. 

“Easy, Colonel,” I cautioned, “though he’s absolutely right, Maxson. Not a chance in hell. Any attack on Minutemen troops or our aligned settlements will be considered grounds for The Castle to fire upon the Prydwen.”

“Any attack on Brotherhood soldiers will result in Liberty Prime reducing your Castle to dust.”

“And so we return to square one.”

Elder Maxson sighed deeply. He looked tired. He didn’t want to be here anymore… but he had his mission, and his ideology, and he couldn’t let them go. The young man was trapped in a purgatory of his own making. I almost felt sorry for him.

All of us jumped to hear Danse’s quiet plea, “Send the Squires home.” Maxson’s face hardened, but Danse persisted, “Don’t let the future of the Brotherhood become collateral damage.”

Maxson ignored him. “If there is anything specific the Brotherhood of Steel can do to help defeat the Mechanist, let me know.”

I took the dismissal for what it was. “Thank you, Elder, I will.”

We quickly made our exit. As soon as we were out of the airport I asked Danse for his opinion of Maxson’s intentions. Danse was quiet for a moment, but said, “When Elder Maxson says he doesn’t want to go to war with the Minutemen, what he means is that he doesn’t want to lose. He will use your preoccupation with the Mechanist as an opportunity to plan and prepare his assault on the Minutemen.”

I nodded, “That’s what I suspected. Yet, eliminating the Mechanist also provides a similar benefit to us. If Maxson is watching me fight robots and organizing his men, then there’s a chance the Brotherhood won’t notice the Minutemen moving into positions of our own, if we act quickly and quietly.”

We’d reached Cait. “If ye’d been in there much longer, I would’ve taken off to Nordhagen,” she said with a scowl, her arms crossed.

“Thank you,” I said. “We’ve a great deal to do gentlemen, and lady. The first order of business is to stop at the Old North Church.”


	6. Chapter 6

None of us slept well. At the first sign of morning, we made our way toward the Old North Church. Danse, Preston, and I compared notes on the Mechanist’s robots; they’d encountered a group of them on their way east from Sanctuary. I described meeting Ada, and explained that robobrains might hold the key to tracking down the Mechanist.

“Robo-what?” Preston asked, his eyes wide.

“Robobrain,” Danse said, as if it should be obvious. “Before the War, they were supposed to be the next generation of robotic soldier, but they were never fully implemented into the Army. They’re multi-purpose robots, with programs stored inside an organic brain contained in a domed shell atop their chassis.”

“They’re disgustin’,” Cait said.

“Sounds like it,” Preston said, indeed vaguely disgusted by the idea.

“How do you know about them, Danse?” I asked, surprised.

“They’re not an uncommon sight in the Capital Wasteland,” he said. “The Brotherhood Outcasts used them. Some were repainted in Brotherhood colors when Elder Maxson brought the Outcasts back into the fold.”

“Outcasts?” I asked.

Danse nodded, “They thought Elder Lyons, Maxson's predecessor, had lost sight of the Brotherhood's true mission. He was too focused on aiding the local populace. The Outcasts saw themselves as the true Brotherhood, devoted to the recovery and preservation of advanced pre-War technology instead of charity.” Preston made a sound. Danse looked at him, “You would hate them, Garvey.”

“Yeah, I would,” Preston stated. “And they had these robobrain things?”

“Since they couldn't increase their numbers through recruitment, they supplemented their forces with a variety of combat robots. Robobrains may appear clunky, but they are more durable, accurate, and dangerous than any protectron.”

“Even more so now that the Mechanist has modified them,” I said.

Cait grumbled, “Covered in armor, with a… what did ya’ call that sparky arm thing?”

“Tesla coil,” I supplied.

“That shite,” she nodded. “Not to mention all the other walking scrap piles fightin’ with it.”

“The main problem with fighting robots is they never know when to surrender,” Danse said.

“ _That’s_ the main problem?” Preston asked, skeptical and surprised.

“Of course. Robots aren’t much of a challenge otherwise; they’re so predictable.”

“I disagree,” I laughed. “At least, the ones we fought held no discernible pattern of combat I noticed, but then again I was preoccupied with keeping my limbs intact.”

“And yet,” Danse said with some amusement, “you consistently refuse to wear power armor.”

“How would I achieve any of my infiltration and stealth work in armor?” I said with a grin, glad to see Preston’s fond eye-roll at his soldier.

“So,” Preston cut in, “Nick’s with this Ada you mentioned? The robot with the plan to find this Mechanist person?”

I nodded, “He is.” I switched on my Pip-Boy’s radio and tuned to the Valentine Agency signal. No messages were there, so I switched to Radio Freedom. My companions remained silent as I attempted to ascertain the status of my partner. There was indeed an alert, but not exactly what I was expecting to hear.

_“You’re listening to Radio Freedom, Voice of the Minutemen. We have a special alert! Keep an eye out for a robobrain near the Mass Fusion building. General Holmes needs a piece of it to track down whoever has been making the robots terrorizing the Commonwealth. If you confront it, be careful! It’s keeping dangerous company.”_

Preston cranked a charge into his musket, “Guess that’s us, huh, General?”

“I wasn’t aware that I needed a piece of another robobrain,” I started, and then I realized what must have happened. “Oh, the beacon,” I hurried forward, “I hope we’re not replacing the first one, but I presume this is Valentine and Ada’s doing.”

“Mass Fusion is still a Brotherhood outpost,” Danse stated.

I nodded, “I know. Let’s hope Maxson’s agreement to work with the Minutemen regarding the robots extends to his men on the ground.”

Cait scoffed, “Assumin’ he told anyone in the first place.”

“She’s got a point,” Preston muttered, then he said, “General, unless you got a way to fly or sail across the bay, we aren’t going to get to Mass Fusion in time.”

“I'm aware, but what else can we do? We’ll make it as far as we can.”

We made it as far as Bunker Hill before we needed to stop and rest. Danse and Preston took advantage of Mr. Savoldi’s bar while I asked Old Man Stockton if he could inform our mutual business partner I would be arriving with guests. He said if he saw them, he would let them know.

Cait initially wandered toward the bar, but soon joined me as I purchased some ammunition, a bottle in her hand. “That Danse fella sure knows how to make a girl feel welcome,” she sarcastically commented.

“I wouldn’t waste time flirting with either of those soldiers,” I said. 

She smacked her forehead, “Fuckin’ idiot, of course.” She helped herself to the pack of cigarettes in my pocket, “Don’t get excited, I know you ain’t interested, either.” She lit her cigarette and walked with me back toward the bar, “You’re worried about the brain on wheels gettin’ away, aren’t ya?”

“Yes.”

She drew deep from the cigarette and drank from the bottle, “We could just keep movin’.”

“My men are tired and, though I am loathe to admit it, so am I.”

“I’ve got somethin’ that could fix that—”

“No.”

“If it’s so damn important that you get this piece," she demanded between gulps, "then why not?”

“Do not tempt me, Cait.” I breathed deep, and when I spoke again I sounded level, “Please. I know how easy it would be. That’s why I can’t.”

“You’re not makin’ any sense.”

She sounded honestly confused. So I honestly replied, “Once that door is opened again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to close it.”

She huffed, exasperated. “Where is Mass Fusion, anyway?”

“South of here, north of Goodneighbor. The gentlemen who run the bar here also rent a space to sleep. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

Cait was gone at sunrise. Preston and Danse had noticed her missing, but hadn’t thought much of it. She’d purchased some chems, they assumed she was somewhere using them. The traders around Bunker Hill were unhelpful, though one mentioned he saw her going for a walk. We had no choice but to continue on.

A few hours later, she found us.

“Here,” she said, hurrying up to me out of breath. “This the thing?”

She handed me a device identical to the one I took from the first robobrain. The implications terrified me. “Cait. What did you do?”

“You’re welcome!” she scoffed, offended. “I went down and grabbed the thing, what the hell do you think I did? I had a bit of trouble makin’ sure I wasn’t leavin’ anything behind, but I had to work fast what with them Brotherhood bastards roamin’.”

“It seems complete.”

“Look, if you’re worried about me startin’ somethin’ you have to clean up later, don’t. They didn’t see me. The robobrain was just lyin’ there, along with all the other piles of scrap. Looked like the Brotherhood had been doin’ clean up of their own all day, so they weren’t about to start scavenging.”

“I’m not worried about the Brotherhood.”

She was startled, “Oh. Now don’t be dumb, might as well use what you’ve got, right? You needed it, I got it for you, because you couldn’t. Gonna be a mite twitchy today, but what else is new? But, uh. I figure this makes us even.”

My concern shifted to confusion, “Even?”

She nodded, “I’m stayin' behind. You don’t need me. I’m not ungrateful," she hurried to add. "You've been damn decent to me, which is more than I can say for most people in me life, but I feel pretty damn useless runnin’ next to you with those soldier boys. I’m used to lookin’ out for number one, you know? Your circle keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger. I like you, you don’t take any shite from anyone and I respect that, but I don’t want to be just a hired hand, tagging along because I have to keep bullets off you. And that's the way I see this headed.”

"I understand," I said, and it was true. "Where are you going to go?"

"Figure I’ll head down to Goodneighbor. I can find work that suits me there," she said, and then she smiled. "If you ever want to get piss drunk and pick a fight, come find me."

I shook her hand, “If you ever need assistance, whatever it may be, come find me.”

"Pff, I doubt you'll feel that way if I ever show up at your door, but thanks." She walked away.

“Too bad she didn’t stay,” Preston said.

“Really?” I was surprised. “I thought you’d be glad to see her leave.”

He shrugged, “Honestly, I am. But, at the same time, you’ve got a way of helping folks if they just stick around long enough.”

“She knows where to find him,” Danse said.

“If she lives that long.”

I sighed, “Our priority right now is to get to the Church without the Brotherhood realizing where we’re going. If Maxson was telling the truth and they really have discovered the location of the headquarters, then it is imperative they do not see us step inside it. We don’t want to announce that the Railroad has been warned. If Maxson was bluffing, then it is even more important that we not be discovered.”

“Then we wait for night and proceed under cover of darkness?” Danse asked.

I shook my head and lead the way, “We don’t have time. Instead, we’re going in the back door.”

I led them to the Railroad’s escape tunnel, all of us taking cover at every sound of a vertibird’s engine. Waiting for us inside the tunnel was a particularly formidable woman with white hair holding a minigun.

“Ah, Glory. Good afternoon.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Railroad agent demanded.

“I have to speak with Desdemona. It is important.”

“You think you can bring a soldier in power armor through our back door and not raise any eyebrows?”

I frowned, impatient, “Considering I’m attempting to save you and everyone else’s life, yes as a matter of fact I do.”

She thought about debating me for a solid three seconds. “Fuck. Fine, hurry up.”

We followed. As we entered their headquarters, Glory announced, “The power armor was with Detective! Or General, whatever you want to call him. Says he needs to see Dez.”

Desdemona was in her usual place at her table, looking over reports. “General. Stockton told us you would be coming. He didn’t mention you’d be bringing a suit of power armor with you.”

“This is Lieutenant Colonel Danse,” I introduced him. 

Danse removed his helmet, “Had I known my presence was going to incite panic, I would have left my armor at the door.”

“We’re constantly spied on by Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, you understand we’re a bit cautious when it comes to suits of armor outside,” Desdemona said.

“Caution can often be misinterpreted as hostility.”

“I think a little paranoia is justified in her line of work, Danse,” Preston said.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“The man’s sense of humor is drier than the Mojave,” Deacon said from the corner. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, a pompadour wig on his head and the same sunglasses as always. “But to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Desdemona rolled her eyes, “We don’t have time—”

“You don’t have time for anything right now,” I interrupted. “Elder Maxson claims to know where you are located. The only reason he hasn’t ordered an attack is because he knows the Minutemen would immediately retaliate, because of my association with your organization. I believe he wants to strike firmly at once, and obliterate the Minutemen and Railroad as one.”

Everyone had gone silent, listening closely.

“Maxson is likely putting his soldiers in place as we speak,” I continued. “You have to evacuate. The Brotherhood only know of one location for certain, assuming they aren’t bluffing in the first place.”

“And may I ask, General,” Desdemona spoke carefully neutral, “why the Minutemen haven’t shot the Prydwen out of the sky by now?”

"There are children on board.”

Desdemona blinked. “Children.”

“They’re called Squires. It’s not their fault they were born into the Brotherhood, raised among its ranks, and brought to the Commonwealth.”

She sighed, "This is war. Collateral damage—"

“Is never acceptable," I fumed. "Do not presume to lecture me about war, madam. I have seen first hand its horror wrought on the world, both before and after the apocalypse it birthed. It should be avoided at all costs, and yet remains a tragic product of human nature." I forced myself to calm, "That’s why I need Deacon.”

“Boss?” Deacon asked, unreadable.

“I need you to get those children off that damn ship.”

For the first time, his falsely modest charm was grating, “Hey, as flattered as I am by your faith in me to infiltrate the Brotherhood base of operations—”

Danse spoke over his objection, “I still have my Brotherhood of Steel uniform back at Sanctuary. It won’t fit you perfectly, but if you move quickly and with purpose you won't be questioned. The Squires remain on a strict schedule that I don’t imagine Lancer-Captain Kells will have seen any reason to alter. They’re accustomed to following orders, and are often assigned to a soldier for the day to observe them in action. There are only a few of them, but even so the greatest difficulty will be bringing the whole group out of the airport without being questioned.”

Deacon was quiet a moment, then shrugged. “Sure, I’ve gone into ops with less.”

Danse smiled, small but approving. “I can give you any intel you need regarding the layout of the Prydwen and the airport,” he turned to Desdemona, “provided your leader approves.”

Desdemona stopped the protest that had been forming on her lips and glared. Glory spoke, “We don’t have time for this. If our position is compromised, our first priority is getting everyone out of here.”

“Glory’s right, Dez,” Deacon said, “we gotta get everyone out of here for now. But you don’t need me for that. Holmes isn’t going to fire on the Prydwen without at least trying to get those kids out of there, and right now the Minutemen are our best hope. We’ve lost all our other windows of opportunity. I’ll go in, find the kids, try to get them out, and if I can’t, I’ll blow the place to hell.”

Danse’s jaw clenched at the sound of that, but he said nothing.

“Where are you going to take them once you get them off the ship?” Desdemona asked Deacon.

“Uh… away?”

“Cambridge,” Danse said.

Deacon was alarmed, “Whoa, what?”

“Someone needs to disable the communications dish in Cambridge, or else the Brotherhood will be able to contact the Capital Wasteland for reinforcements.”

“So you want me to deliver a bunch of kidnapped Brotherhood kids into their western base and then say 'mind if I look at your dish?' Man, this mission just keeps getting better and better.”

"If it were easy, Deacon,” I said, “anyone could do it. You are one of the Railroad’s best.”

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Detective. Ok, that's a lie.” Deacon turned to Tinker Tom, “Hey Tom, before the Institute became an irradiated swimming pool, you were working on the vertibird thing, right? You ever figure out how to fly one?”

The Railroad’s inventor nodded, “In theory. Never had a chance to practice, for obvious reasons.”

“Good enough, just give me all you got. I’ll figure it out as I go. Can’t be too hard, right?”

“Vertibird thing?” I asked.

“We were going to hijack a vertibird, get onboard, set some explosives, and blow the Prydwen out of the sky,” Deacon explained. “Harebrained scheme, but I had high hopes for it. Then the Institute exploded and we suddenly had a bunch of panicked synths to look after, so Operation Red Glare was abandoned. Oh, I won’t need your old uniform, Danse, we nabbed a couple already.”

Danse's voice was strained, "I'm not a pilot, but I can at least tell you if there are any grievous errors in your… research."

Tom gestured to his desk, "Step into my office, my man."

Desdemona regained command, "Alright people, while Deacon helps the Minutemen with the Prydwen, the rest of us have to get out of here. Standard evacuation, take only what's necessary. There haven't been many patrols reported over the Boathouse, we have to hope that it hasn't been discovered. We’re going to move everyone out in waves through the day.”

She detailed the order of evacuation, and the Railroad Headquarters became a whirl of activity. Danse, Tinker Tom, and Deacon remained in tense discussion. Deacon seemed to know how much Danse hated the idea of handing his former home over to a Railroad spy, and kept somber. Preston and I helped with the preparations when we could, and tried to stay out of the way when we couldn't.

In a few hours we'll make our departure.


	7. Chapter 7

We traveled by night to the Taffington Boathouse. A way-point for traveling Railroad agents and synth refugees from the Institute, the two-story house usually provided a safe place to rest and a meal. They were not quite equipped for a dozen people to suddenly appear at once, but made the most of it.

The sun was just coming up as we arrived with Tinker Tom and Pam. As I was known to be searching for the Mechanist, the idea was that an assaultron in my company might be less suspicious than with any agent trying to look average. Dr. Carrington, Drummer Boy, and a handful of agents had gone ahead of us, while Desdemona, Glory, and the remaining agents were behind us. Deacon had gone east, disguise in hand.

Drummer Boy stood on the porch, keeping watch as a woman worked in the thriving garden in the front yard. She stood up with a basket full of vegetables, saw us coming, and promptly dropped the basket with a yelp.

I recognized her. As her creator's son rushed out of the house, I had a horrible premonition of what was about to happen. I immediately froze, and fortunately all my companions did the same.

"Hello, Eve," I said. To the young man staring at me with shock and anger, I said, "Liam. Good morning."

"Fuck off," he spat. He stormed toward me. I held a hand out to keep my friends from reaching for their weapons. If Liam was still a pacifist, the worst I would receive would be a verbal beratement. If he wasn't, I would probably deserve whatever he did to me. "You lied to me! You destroyed my home and you have the nerve to come here and say 'good morning?!'"

Tinker Tom spoke, hesitant, "We... probably should have mentioned Patriot was staying here, huh?"

"Don't call me that!" Liam snapped.

"I won't be in your way," I told Liam, "and I won't stay for long."

"Good," he said, and stormed back inside.

I looked at Tom. He shrugged, "Glory found him after the Institute was destroyed. She recognized him. His dad… almost made it."

I winced, "That must have been terrible for him."

We continued to the house, "Yeah, man. If Glory hadn't found him, if Zachariah hadn't been able to talk some sense into him—"

"Who?"

"Used to be called Z1-14. Convinced Liam that this was the world he'd sent synths to, this was what freedom looked like, the least he could do was help them survive in it. So Glory got them set up here. I hear Eve is a pretty good cook.”

Preston had carefully approached Eve and introduced himself as she recovered the produce scattered across the garden. He offered to carry the basket for her, which she politely declined, and thanked him for his concern. She hurried inside.

"General?" Preston asked as we went inside, "The kid that chewed you out…"

I explained, "Liam Binet is responsible for a great many synths being sent to the surface. He decided that freedom in whatever world existed up here was better than slavery inside the Institute. I was going to help him free more… I was going to help him free all of them."

"And instead you showed up with a bunch of Minutemen and blew his home to hell," Preston sighed.

“Yes.”

Drummer Boy had gone inside at some point during all this, and now met us at the door, “Tom, we’re gonna give the boathouse a proper floor for you to set up shop. Carrington’s setup is temporarily in the kitchen. Pam, there's a space for you in the living room. Still not sure how we’re going to fit everyone here.”

“No sweat, Drummer Boy,” Tom said, “we’ll make it work. It’s only temporary, anyway. Hopefully. First though? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need some breakfast.”

We agreed. Danse left his armor on the porch temporarily, mindful of the limited space inside the house. Seeing yet another Minuteman uniform did not comfort Eve as she tried to cook. "Why are you here?" she asked Preston.

"Just here for a bite to eat and a moment's rest, ma'am. Then we'll be out of your way."

This comforted her somewhat. “You came with the Railroad.”

“General Holmes wanted to warn the Railroad that the Brotherhood were planning an attack. Figured we might as well help with the evacuation.”

Eve nodded, “The doctor, he said something similar, though much… harsher.”

“I can imagine,” I said with a small smile. “Dr. Carrington is not known for his bedside manner.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s sleeping now, but I’m sure he’ll reclaim the kitchen as soon as he wakes up. I’m glad you aren’t staying long,” she continued in gentle tones, no longer scared but still concerned, “it will be hard for Liam with you here. Harder than usual.”

“Are you his mother?” Danse asked.

She shook her head, “No, I’m a copy of her.” Seeing Danse’s scowl, Eve explained, “After she died, Liam’s father designed me to be a surrogate mother. I was a social experiment, to see if a synth could integrate into a family. That’s what he always told his colleagues. I like to think it was becoming more than that. I know Liam isn’t really my son, but I've come to love him as if he were.”

“How has he adjusted?” I asked.

She shrugged with a small smile, “Not much use for a computer genius on the surface. When synths come through, some of them like to talk to him, when they find out who he is, what he did. That seems to help him."

Danse’s scowl had lessened to a frown, but was made suddenly worse by Drummer Boy’s appearance, “Hey, mind if we borrow your power armor?”

“Yes.”

“We just need to move—”

Danse stood and followed, “Show me what you’re trying to accomplish.”

Preston, Tom, and I ate while Danse assisted with construction outside the house. Tom left to find a place for his sleeping bag, and Preston and I followed his example. Liam entered the kitchen as we left, pointedly ignoring our presence, and helped himself to breakfast with a pleasant "hello" to his surrogate mother.

Danse entered after him. Liam glared at the intrusion, unwilling to leave, and Danse wasn't about to be intimidated by a teenager.

So Danse filled his plate, sat down across the table from him and said, "I understand you're good with computers."

Preston and I listened in from around the corner.

"I was better than good, back when they still existed," Liam grumbled.

"The fact that you are no longer within a safe and secure closed system does not mean there is no use for your skills. Have you ever programmed a turret?"

"Have I… what?"

"Not as sophisticated as the challenge of freeing synths, but necessary to--"

Liam sighed angrily, "That's what I hate most about this place, everything comes back to violence."

"A pacifist nature in a world where ninety percent of it wants to eat you is exceedingly dangerous and unwise."

They ate in silence.

"You've been on the surface for nearly a year," Danse said, "what have you accomplished in that time?"

"Accomplished? Staying alive isn't enough?"

"You are secure in your position here with a consistent source of food, water, shelter, and supplies. Why haven't you done more?"

Liam was flabbergasted. "Like what?!"

"You're the so-called genius, you tell me." And with that, Danse stood, thanked Eve for the meal, and joined us in our search for a space to rest.

"Damn, Danse," Preston muttered when we were out of earshot, “think you were a little hard on the kid?” Despite the words, there was no mistaking the admiration in Preston’s tone.

Danse scoffed, "If anyone had known the entire population of the Institute could be utterly demoralized simply by forcing its inhabitants to the surface, the technology could have been salvaged instead of destroyed."

We ended up on the porch, out of the direct paths of activity in the house. I lit a cigarette as Preston and Danse made themselves as comfortable as is possible on ancient wood. We managed to rest for a few hours before Desdemona, Glory, and company arrived, sparking a rush of activity as everyone tried to expand the limited amount of shelter. It was time for us to go.

“Hey, Danse?" Preston suddenly asked, "The salvaging technology thing. Do you ever miss that part?”

“Miss it?” Danse was surprised and had to think for a moment. “Not exactly. I was skilled at identifying potentially useful artifacts, and there was always a sense of satisfaction in discovering a piece, but I was also content to simply hand them over to the scribes for study." He opened his armor, "However, I think there would be great value in scavenging missions, using technology to further enhance the effectiveness of our troops and security of our settlements.”

Preston shrugged, “We'd have to figure out how to use it.”

“True, though we do have some more scientifically minded individuals among some settlements.”

Preston’s brow rose. “You want to start a Minutemen version of Brotherhood Scribes with Institute refugees.”

Danse smirked and stepped inside his armor, “It does sound insane when you put it like that, doesn't it?”

"I completely disagree," I said.

They both looked at me, surprised, "General?"

"I know precisely who I want as our first recruit," I said over my shoulder as I hurried back inside.

Eve told me he'd gone out back, which is where I found him glaring at a machine gun turret pointed at the sewer drain north across the river.

“Liam, may I speak with you a moment?”

“I’d rather not.”

“I know I’m the last person you want to talk to, but I have a proposition--”

He spun to face me, “There is nothing you have to offer me! You betrayed me! My father is dead, everyone I loved and cared about was vaporized or lost in this barren irradiated shithole, because of you. I wanted to blame myself, I thought that somehow me trusting you meant I was responsible, but you were always going to destroy humanity’s best hope for the future, whether or not we ever met. You know, I used to feel sorry for you? You lost your son, you missed out on every moment of his life, but now, I see it's only what you deserved.”

I was incensed, “I will not be lectured by a petulant child. You were perfectly willing to send synths to this world you were so ‘curious’ about, you were perfectly willing to risk your perfect comfort, as long as you never had to think about the fact that your father was still building those slaves in the first place! There were plenty of scientists who had second thoughts about the Institute's isolation, about whether or not synths were people, about whether it was acceptable to experiment just because they could, and not a single one spoke up! Those ideas were firmly beaten down by fear of the consequences, and so apathy was chosen over compassion, because it was easier. And you want me to believe generations of isolated amoral inventors were the best hope for humanity? What about _this_ humanity? What about the very real, human lives existing in this wasteland?”

"General?" Preston spoke from behind me, wary.

I breathed, suddenly very tired. “It's alright, Preston. Nothing to worry over." 

"Awful lot of shouting for nothing."

"I'll explain later." I focused on Liam, "Your father was right in his belief that science should be done with compassion in mind first and foremost, but it takes a far more patient man than me to teach compassion to those who cannot feel it toward those they do not see. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret my actions, that people died, that the science that could have saved the world was lost. But neither could I stand by and permit it to exist. I tried to reason with the Director. I tried to tell him I wanted nothing to do with his Institute, but he wouldn’t listen. I tried to tell him… so many things. He was so convinced in his vision he refused to consider his father might not share it.

"But science with compassion," I continued, "that is a vision you and your father both shared, and it is one that could still happen. No, that _needs_ to happen."

Liam was confused, "What?"

"You aren’t the only one to get out. There are Institute refugees scattered throughout the Commonwealth. Imagine what they could accomplish if they gathered together with a simple goal in mind - make life on the surface better for everyone."

He thought about this a long moment. "We’d work for you." The prospect did not please him.

"You’d be a new branch of the Minutemen," I explained.

Liam shook his head, "I don't want anything to do with you."

"Very well. The invitation remains open, indefinitely." I turned to leave.

"Why are you here?" Liam suddenly asked.

"The Minutemen and the Railroad are allies. Did no one tell you?"

He frowned, "Allies."

Preston answered, “The Minutemen are always happy to help everyone, no matter who you are, as long as you aren't in the business of hurting innocent people.”

Liam rolled his eyes, “Sure. Unless you’re the Institute.”

Preston was surprised. “Wait. You're really serious, you don’t know? Listen, man, I get that you probably weren’t in on all the activities of the people in charge or whatever, but you have got to know the people up here have some damn good reasons for hating your home. Like, super mutants? You know the Institute made them, right?” 

Seeing Liam’s disbelief, Preston continued, “The Institute used the surface as its experiment testing area and dumping ground for who knows how long. People up here were tired of having loved ones taken from us and replaced, tired of synth raids destroying homes, tired of living in fear, so we struck back. I'm sorry not everyone got out. I know a lot didn't, even with the evacuation order, and I know that the ones who did escape had a hell of a nasty surprise in store." 

Preston sighed, "I know survival is hard, but it's what we've been doing our whole lives while you were living down there. And you know, I can't even blame you for hiding away. But I can blame the Institute for making the lives of innocent people struggling to survive so much harder than it already was. If you want to just keep hiding, I get it. But humanity's best hope for the future is the one we make ourselves. You decide you want to be a part of that? There's a guy at the Red Rocket station south of Sanctuary who'd love to meet you. Just ask for Sturges."

We left. I told Desdemona the Minutemen would be in touch regarding the Brotherhood, and asked her to return the courtesy. We made our way west. 

I don’t know if any of us convinced Liam Binet to keep trying to make a difference, but I hope the young man continues to find a reason to keep living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You never find out what happens to Liam with a Minutemen ending. You never find out what happens to Any of the scientists after you give the evacuation order, apart from the Resettling Refugees radiant quest. So this was my version.


	8. Chapter 8

From Taffington we headed for Sanctuary. It was afternoon when we left the boathouse, and as the sun was setting we saw a large figure moving down the road in the opposite direction, a pack on his back, in the company of a smaller figure.

Danse’s rifle was up instantly, "Super mutant, looks like he has a hostage!"

“Stand down, Danse,” I ordered.

“What?!”

I was firm, “That's an order.”

He hated it, but the soldier obeyed with a curt, “Yes, sir.”

I gestured to the woman walking beside the mutant, “She isn’t a hostage.”

The lady in question wore a blue vest over her denim dress and trousers, the Minutemen logo embroidered on the lapel. She recognized me, “General Holmes! Splendid to see you!”

“Miss Hargraves,” I tipped my hat, “Still in one piece?”

She smiled, “So far.” 

"Found the milk of human kindness yet, Strong?" Preston asked.

"Strong still look," the mutant grumbled. "Human Anne help. Teach more Shakes Spear to understand Mack Beth. Strong teach Anne how to fight. Good fighter of other humans and ghouls. Not so good at fighting bugs."

"I've never had any stomach for the things," Anne shuddered. 

"One day will be strong enough to fight Strong's brothers! Nothing will stop Strong and human friend from finding milk of human kindness."

"I wish you best of luck," I said. "Where are you headed?"

"Go to Castle."

"Taking care not to pass near any Brotherhood patrols," Anne added.

"Bah, Strong want to smash bucketheads."

"Please do not," I said.

"Not all who wear armor are our foes," Anne stated. She gestured to Danse as illustration. I can only imagine the expression under his helmet.

I decided to disengage before we found out. "We must be on our way. Safe journey to the Castle, farewell to you both."

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Anne declared.

“ _Romeo and Juliet_.” I bowed slightly, “‘So, farewell to you both.’ _King Lear_.”

Anne laughed, “You would do far better in the role of Albany or Edgar than that of Cordelia, General. But we have held you long enough. Adieu!”

She actually pronounced it properly, which was fascinating. I never did determine how their troupe knew what half the words in Shakespeare were to begin with, and it’s not as though iambic pentameter is a common concept in the Commonwealth. There must be a recording of some sort back in that radio station. I digress. My companions and I continued in silence for some distance. 

“So,” Preston said. “That was Strong.”

“So I gathered,” Danse stated.

“Who was the lady, General?”

I explained how I foisted Strong’s company onto Miss Hargraves. Preston was almost as appalled as Danse, though for an entirely different reason. 

“She actually _wanted_ to travel with him?”

“She had a great many initial trepidations, but it seems to have worked out quite well.”

“Huh.”

Nothing more was said about Anne Hargraves, Shakespearean seamstress, and her super mutant companion. We reached Starlight Drive-In by midnight and rested a few hours before continuing on. I was anxious to reach our destination as quickly as possible.

And so it was early in the afternoon that we finally saw the Red Rocket truck stop just south of Sanctuary. A great deal of construction had happened since I’d seen it last, and apparently continued. A welcome sight hurried toward me as soon as we were spotted.

“Holmes!” Valentine called.

I smiled, “Valentine. I take it the construction of a new workbench inspired Sturges to further improvements?”

“That man’s got more ideas than he knows what to do with,” Valentine chuckled. “Did you get the message about the robobrain?”

“Yes, and we have the beacon.”

“Great…” he looked around, puzzled. “Don’t tell me Cait ducked out on you?”

“She elected to stay behind, but not until after she retrieved the beacon for us. We’re even, and so she left.”

He shrugged, “I’d call it even, too. Alright, let’s give Ada this little gadget and see if it’s enough.”

I introduced Ada to Danse and Preston, and the three of us watched in fascination as Sturges used the robotic workbench to install the new beacon into her. Her report… was not what we hoped.

“I'm going to begin my decryption routine, but it could take a while. In the meantime, I've picked up another robobrain beacon signal. It should be the last one you'll need to collect.”

“Another one?” I asked.

“Each robobrain's radar beacon has unique encryption so that it can't be traced back to the source. I believe that with one more beacon, I should be able to decrypt the signal and find the Mechanist.”

Danse was skeptical, “Either that, or this Mechanist is smarter than you suspect and we're just wasting our time.”

“Let's hope that isn't the case,” Ada replied, concerned.

“So where exactly is the last robobrain located?” Valentine asked.

“If my calculations are correct, the signal is coming from…” she hesitated, “Oh, this isn't good. The robobrain is at Fort Hagen Satellite Array, which means it's in the hands of the Rust Devils. My old caravan encountered them once while crossing the river into the city. They scour the Commonwealth looking for my kind. What they can't capture and reprogram, they strip for spare parts. I realize they pose a greater threat to me than you, but I want you to be well informed.”

I nodded, “Thank you, Ada, we’re familiar with them. We haven't come this far to give up now.”

“Despite what lies ahead, I'd be more than happy to accompany you... if you like. I can continue the decryption program as we travel.”

“I have no objection,” I said. “Valentine?”

“No complaints from me. She’s a good bot to have at your back.”

Preston anticipated what I was going to say next, “We’ll coordinate all the Minutemen preparations. If Maxson wants a war, the Minutemen will be as ready as we can be, General.”

I hoped as ready as we could be would be enough.

The satellite array was swarming with Rust Devils and robots. Thanks to Ada’s directions, we managed to make our way into the hangar. Robots were scattered all over the place, dismantled and scavenged and tossed aside. Eventually, we discovered a robobrain. At least, we discovered the brain. The robobrain’s “head” had been removed from its robotic body, and connected to a computer near the base of a ramp up to an inactive sentry bot covered in additional plating and decorated with skulls.

The robobrain spoke. The feminine voice sounded irritated. “You don't look like one of the Rust Devils. What are you doing here?”

“What did they do to you?” Valentine asked, appalled.

“They felt that keeping my head online would prove useful to them. Fortunately for me, they're stupid enough to actually believe anything I say. Admittedly, it hasn't gotten me very far, but it has saved me from the same fate as my rather unfortunate comrades you see in pieces around you. Now, back to my original question. What are you doing here?”

“It appears we’re here for your radar beacon,” I said.

“My radar beacon?” She was surprised, “Now that's unexpected. That's a very specific part to be searching for and you don't look like the typical parts scavenger type to me. I calculate a 98.8 percent chance that you're looking for the Mechanist. If I'm correct, and I usually am, then perhaps we can help each other with our respective... predicaments.”

“You’re hardly in any position to bargain.”

“You really think just because I'm connected to this machine, you have the upper hand? If you'd take a moment to listen, I'll explain precisely why you're wrong.” The voice dripped condescension, “Now, how can I put this as simple as possible so someone at your processing speed can understand? In order to find the Mechanist, you're going to need more than just my radar beacon, you're going to need access to the facility. I'm willing to provide said access... but you'll have to fulfill two simple conditions. One, you need to get me as far away as you can from these lunatics. And two, find me a new body. Once both conditions are satisfied, I'll gladly provide you with everything you need. Do we have a deal?”

Valentine was doubtful. “How do we know you'll keep up your end of the bargain?”

“Even though there's a human brain floating in bio-gel inside my head, I'm still bound by my original programming. It pains me to admit it, but one of my directives states that I cannot lie. Ever. So, while I'm not the most charming robot you've ever encountered, the last thing I'm going to do is violate an agreement we've made.

“You’ve already implied you’ve been lying to the Rust Devils,” I said.

“I haven’t been lying. I’ve just told them truths that might not be related to their questions.”

“Not exactly a firm foundation for trust,” Valentine said.

“You don’t have a choice.”

If she was lying, the only cost would be Sturges’s time spent on restoring her body. “Very well.”

“Good. Once we’re at our destination, I’ll happily relinquish my radar beacon as a gesture of good faith. Now, I strongly suggest you stop loitering in the middle of a hostile location and get us both out of here at once.”

I removed her from the computer. Fortunately, the dome fit in my pack. Unfortunately, a hiss of steam came from the sentry bot as it activated. I wasted no time in throwing a pulse grenade onto its lap and diving for cover as Ada and Valentine began firing at it. Its attention split between them, I focused on its fusion cores. It was eventually defeated, though the resulting explosion sent me sprawling.

“Holmes!” Valentine rushed to me, “You alright?”

“A bit singed and bruised, but nothing a stimpak won’t fix,” I groaned. 

The brain’s voice spoke from my pack, “You… destroyed Ahab.” She sounded impressed. The moment passed. “Well, come on. Let’s not wait around for more horrifying monstrosities.”

We fought our way out past the raiders, killing the one responsible for the robobrain’s current state to her immense satisfaction, and hurried away from the place as quickly as we could. 

“Thank goodness we’re out of that hole,” the robobrain muttered. 

“What do we call you?” I asked.

“I have no designation.”

“How about Jezebel?”

Valentine stifled a laugh. ‘Jezebel’ didn’t seem to notice. “It doesn’t matter to me what useless phrase you want to use as an indicator. I’ve had enough jostling around in your pockets. Let me know when you’ve found me a body, will you? Entering rest mode in 3, 2, 1… goodnight.”

“Thought she’d never stop complaining,” Valentine grumbled.

Ada commented, “Robobrains are notorious for being... well, a real pain in the neck.”

“What do you know about them, Ada?” I asked.

“The brain is used both as a control unit and a data storage unit which is far more efficient than using standard circuits. Unfortunately, there were a lot of programming issues with these robots which caused them to be a bit... shall we say, unhinged? The robobrain's unfortunate tendency towards violence and aggression should be considered more of a malfunction than a calculated decision. I confess, I am not certain why you agreed to this one’s demands.”

“If we truly need it to access the Mechanist’s facility, then we can’t take any chances.”

Ada sounded irritated, “How foolish of me. It makes perfect sense that the Mechanist would not only keep its location a closely guarded secret, but would secure it against intrusion as well. I'm terribly sorry, I hadn't considered that possibility at all. I'm afraid when it comes to assisting humans, I'm not doing very well lately.”

Valentine and I were both shocked. “Why would you say something like that?” my partner asked.

“Ever since I let my friends die in that caravan, I feel like I've been failing in my duties. I chose the route we took the day we were attacked. Perhaps if I had selected an alternate route, they'd still be alive. Sometimes I wish that Jackson had programmed me with my personality mode set permanently to disabled so I wouldn't feel so upset.”

I was puzzled, “Your personality mode is what enables you to act more like a human than a mindless automaton, is it not?”

“Yes. Jackson said he didn't think of me as a servitor robot... he treated me more like a friend. So he permanently set my personality mode to ‘on.’ He said I should never lose my identity. I suppose I'm starting to think he was wrong.”

I sighed, “Ada, not only have you repeatedly proven yourself invaluable, your personality defines you as an individual. The ability to become upset is perhaps unpleasant and inconvenient, but the alternative would make you no better than the creations terrorizing the Commonwealth.”

She stopped suddenly, and turned to me. “Thank you. I think I needed to hear that from someone else. Once we reach Red Rocket, I can finish my calculations and hopefully our new ‘friend’ Jezebel can grant us access to the facility.”

“And we can put an end to this nonsense once and for all,” Valentine said.

After we’d walked a little farther, Ada asked, “Sirs, why is the name Jezebel humorous?”

“Jezebel was the name of an ancient wicked queen, married to a king called Ahab,” I explained. “According to one story, she was killed during a revolution by being thrown out a high window. Stray dogs ate her body, until only her head, feet, and hands were left.”

“Ah. But our Jezebel is missing hands and feet.”

“No doubt she would like them returned,” I nodded. 

“Didn’t expect you to pull a biblical reference out of thin air, Holmes,” Valentine teased. “Can’t imagine there was much use for that in your detective work.”

“Well, when you impersonate a priest as many times as I have, it’s helpful to know a few facts.”

“When you _what_?”

And so I told them stories of when being in disguise proved extremely useful as we traveled.


	9. Chapter 9

We encountered a group of the Mechanist's creations distressingly close to Abernathy farm. An eyebot broadcasted a message from their creator as we struck; 

_"People of the Commonwealth. Again, I, the Mechanist, have come to warn you of the Scourge that terrorizes this land. Many of my robot allies have been defeated, leaving you all vulnerable to the insidious predators of the world today. But fear not! I have increased production of my robots. Soon, our patrols will be doubled, and there will be nowhere for our enemies to hide."_

"Scourge?" I wondered aloud.

"I believe he is referring to you, sir!" Ada called as she shot down the offending floating speaker. 

As the last robot fell, Valentine quipped, "Gotta say, this Mechanist fella sure gives a good villainous monologue."

I felt like an idiot. No wonder the name had sounded familiar; I was closely acquainted with The Mechanist's number one foe. That, however, was something to be considered later. The most pressing matter at hand was the restoration of Jezebel’s body, and holding her to her bargain.

Sturges was hard at work with a handful of volunteers from Sanctuary to assist with improvements around Red Rocket. When I handed him Jezebel’s head, he nearly dropped it in surprise and disgust. “Uhh… right. Ok. Building a robobrain, then?”

“Supposedly this one will be able to tell us how to get inside the Mechanist’s facility, provided we restore the body that raiders scrapped.”

“Got it.”

“Wouldn’t go crazy on the accessories,” Valentine said as he lit a cigarette. “She’s got a pretty damn big gap in her logic protocols, so. I’d stick her on something as non-threatening as possible.”

Sturges nodded, “I’ve got just the thing. Won’t take long.”

When Jezebel came out of standby mode, she found herself attached to an armless, armorless, protectron's body. She was… underwhelmed with the development.

"... Interesting. This body isn't quite what I had envisioned."

"Well, I was going to have Sturges connect your head to Liberty Prime's body," I said, "but I’m afraid relations with the Brotherhood are a little strained at the moment. This will have to suffice."

"If you're attempting to use sarcasm as an intimidation tactic, I'm afraid you're wasting your time."

“Intimidation?" Valentine was amused, "Can't say I've ever considered being a smart-ass to be intimidating.”

I've never heard a more impatient robot, “Why don't you ask me everything you wanted to know and then I'll be on my way.”

"Very well," I said. "Tell me everything you know about the Mechanist."

"Amazingly adept at programming, a veritable genius with electronics," she said, clearly impressed. "I've been dutifully carrying out the Mechanist's instructions to help the people of the Commonwealth for quite a long time."

Valentine, Ada, and I shared a glance. "Helping the people of the Commonwealth?" I asked. "You?"

"Absolutely," Jezebel confirmed, "it's my primary directive. The Mechanist instructed me to seek out and help the people of the Commonwealth. By my calculations, the easiest way to help a human is simply to destroy it. There's no point in prolonging a laughably fragile life. It's the most efficient way to assist them. Any other effort to help tends to result in numerous complex side-effects."

Valentine was aghast and furious, "You don't help people by killing them, that's insane!"

"On the contrary. Assisting a human to the best of my abilities only affords a twenty-five percent survival rate. That means there's a seventy-five percent chance that despite my efforts, the human I'm assisting will die from something beyond my control. Therefore it's better to hasten the human's death and put them out of their likely chance of misery than to deplete my limited time. It's actually quite elementary--"

"Enough," I commanded. "How do we gain access to the Mechanist’s facility?"

"It's rather simple, really. In order to gain entry to the Mechanist's facility, you're going to need to outfit one of your robots with an 'M-SAT' modification."

Ada was impressed. "A custom modification that acts as a key to the Mechanist facility. Very smart. In fact, chances are high the M-SAT may be required for multiple access points, like a robot identification card."

"Precisely," Jezebel said. "I'll upload the plans to your Pip-Boy device, and I will have fulfilled my portion of our agreement." She did so, and commented, "Perhaps I'll remain here for a while and see how things resolve between yourself and the Mechanist... purely for my own amusement, of course. I suspect you'll have quite a tale to tell once you return, but then again, I'd be surprised if you ever return at all."

"Don't wear out your welcome," Valentine warned, and we moved away to show Sturges the plans.

"Were you able to decrypt the signal, Ada?"

"Yes. The source is coming from a RobCo Sales & Service Center. Most likely a front for a larger operation."

I nodded, "Then it's time to confront the Mechanist."

"I hope you're allowed the opportunity. I too am curious as to what the Mechanist would have to say."

Sturges confirmed he had all the materials necessary for the M-SAT at hand. Ada volunteered for the installation. As she said, "I may be a robot, but I feel a strong amount of personal investment to see this mission through."

And so, "key" in hand, we headed east.

At my insistence, we made a detour south to Diamond City. Not only did I want to see my son before confronting a mad inventor of robots, but there was an item I wanted to take with us. I was fairly certain it would help.

Shaun was ecstatic to see us, greeting both his fathers with a tight hug. Codsworth greeted us warmly and asked if the rumors of war were to be believed.

"I'm afraid so," I confirmed.

"But why?" Shaun asked.

"The Brotherhood refuse to stop hunting synths. They've discovered the location of the Railroad; the only reason they haven't attacked is because the Minutemen and Railroad are allies.” I knelt down in front of him, “I wish I could have done or said something to change their leader’s mind. Perhaps I could have, but whatever needed to be done, I didn’t do.”

“Will a lot of people be hurt?”

“Probably. Let’s sit down a moment.”

Codsworth and Ada occupied themselves talking in the workshop while my partner and I sat on the sofa with our son between us and attempted to answer all of his questions. Shaun understood the concept of war, he fully realized what was going to happen. Violence born of fear and anger and hate is something one quickly becomes all too familiar with in this world, even when sheltered behind a wall. I suppose it is especially true when one’s father is responsible for destroying an entire underground civilization. What he didn’t understand was why the Brotherhood didn’t simply leave. I told him they believe they are in the right.

This did not seem to be a satisfactory answer, but he accepted it and asked why the Railroad wasn’t involved.

"The Railroad are spies, not soldiers," I told him. "A few members might be considered exceptions, but they do not have an army. I do. I had to choose whether I would ignore the Brotherhood, let them do what they wanted as long as they didn’t hurt any Minutemen or our allied settlements, or I could stand against them and their misguided desire to destroy that which they see as strictly evil. Either choice I made, people would die. I could not choose to ignore the Brotherhood." 

"Ignoring would be like apathy, right?" Shaun asked.

"It would be similar." I’ve previously made my opinion of apathy dramatically clear. 

Shaun was, of course, worried. "Promise you'll come home safe?"

I sighed, "Well, Valentine will be fine, it'll take more than a few bullets or energy blasts to stop him, after all."

"Don't joke, Sherlock," Valentine said softly.

I held my son's hand and gathered my thoughts. I thought my partner would assist, but he seemed to think I was the one that should do the talking. "Shaun,” I tried again, “I… don’t know what to expect in the next few days. The next week. I can’t even say when you’ll see us again. It might be a few days, it might be a long time. But if there is one fact I know for certain to be true, it is that Nick and I both love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Promise you’ll be careful, at least?”

“That I can certainly promise,” I smiled. “However, first we have to stop the madman releasing deranged robots into the world.”

Shaun made a face, "The Mechanist."

"That's right."

Valentine chuckled, "Awful strong look of disgust for a name. You take after Dad for dramatics."

The comment got a quick laugh from me, but a frustrated huff from Shaun, "What's the point of building robots that only kill people?"

"It seems that was not the intention," I said.

Valentine nodded gravely, "Sounds like the killing bit might just be a horrible misunderstanding."

"Then why doesn't he stop?" Shaun asked.

"We must assume the Mechanist doesn't know what his creations are doing," I said. "Either that, or there is no misunderstanding at all and this is some twisted plot."

"Whatever it is, you're going to stop him, right?"

"Yes. Now, Valentine and I are only here for tonight, so let's make the most of it."

We played. I had scavenged a chess board together a month ago and taught Shaun the basic game; he'd been practicing with Codsworth and was eager to play against me. Valentine became complicit in a teddy bear's murder, and Shaun proudly informed us he had fixed Public Occurrences’ printing press while Piper was in Goodneighbor. According to Nat, she’d gone to tell Mayor Hancock about Diamond City’s decision to remain essentially neutral between Brotherhood and Minutemen, a decision which rankled me a bit, I must admit. I don’t know what Hancock is going to do with this information, if anything at all. To be perfectly honest, I don’t have time to worry about it.

Valentine and I smoked on the roof once Shaun was in bed that night. “So what's the plan when we get to the Mechanist?” he asked.

“That depends on how convincing The Mechanist finds my Silver Shroud performance.”

“Wait. The Shroud costume? That’s the item you wanted to pick up?”

“If The Mechanist wishes to model his career after a radio drama villain, why shouldn’t the hero make an appearance?”

Valentine shook his head with a smile, “God help us if Shaun’s this dramatic when he’s older.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're keeping up with _Occurrences_ while reading the main plot, "Help Who Needs Helping" leads into this chapter.

I rose early in the morning to don the Shroud’s costume and make certain I had plenty of ammunition. Codsworth provided a light breakfast, Valentine and I kissed our son goodbye, and I opened the door. 

Cait stood there, hand raised as if about to knock.

She hurriedly dropped her hand and said, “What the bloody hell are you wearin’?”

In my surprise and hurry, I answered, “A trench coat. Why are you here?”

She fidgeted, “I never thought I'd be sayin' this, but I... well, I really need your help.”

She was even thinner and paler than usual, exhaustion clear on her face. ‘Help’ could have meant any number of things, and I did not have time. Yet, my eyes rested on the marks decorating her arms, so many more than on mine and so much more recent. I gestured she should step inside.

She sounded irritated, but did so, “Damn you for bein' so nice to me.”

Valentine opened his mouth, and closed it with a glance from me. He waited. We waited. 

Cait built up her courage and the words flowed, “Ever since I left home, I been usin' psycho. I dunno why I'm still takin' that crap, but I can't stop, and believe me, I've tried. I can't even go a day without it anymore and I'm fuckin' tired of it. Worst of all, it's been makin' me sick. I've been spittin' blood and I don't feel right inside. I need to get this shite out of me system before I wind up dead. Normally, a wasteland doc could handle it, but I've been usin' the stuff so damn long they can't help me anymore.”

I’d never heard of an addiction that couldn’t even begin to be treated with addictol, but then I’d also never had any close acquaintance with psycho or its users. “Why come to me?”

She hesitated, “There's supposed to be a vault somewhere... a place called Vault 95. I guess Vault-Tec used it for some kinda experiment... stuck a bunch of junkies inside to poke and prod. Well, they supposedly had some special method to clean up those blokes in there... some kind of a machine or somethin'. If we could get inside, maybe that machine could help me.”

I frowned, skeptical, “Where did you hear this?”

“Piper found out about it, hell if I know how.”

That surprised me, “And she told you?”

“I think Hancock asked her to find somethin' to help me.” She saw my confusion, “I've been doin' jobs for Hancock and somehow he got it into his head that I need to get meself clean and that damn reporter has been tryin' to help because she can't mind her own business.”

“I could see that happening,” Valentine quietly commented. 

It did make a bit more sense. “And you came to ask me for help instead of them because… you’re ashamed?” I asked. 

She scowled, “I came because helpin' people is what you're supposed to be good at! I ain't ashamed.” She faltered, and became quiet, “… I'm scared. I can't ask 'em, ok? Don't even know why they keep tryin' to help me in the first place.” She sighed, “Look, I know my timing is shit. You've got more important things to worry about right now than a… a lowlife junkie. But you were decent to me, tried to warn me to stop before, and so. Here I am.”

“Do you know where we could find Vault 95?”

She shook her head, “Not really. All I know is it's supposed to be somewhere in the southwestern part of the Commonwealth.”

“I might know where it is,” Valentine said. “Figures it'd be in the opposite direction.”

I turned to him, “You don't have to come.”

He lit a cigarette, “Holmes, if you think I'm gonna let you take one step inside a Vault-Tec experiment for addicts without me, you're an idiot.”

“I will accompany you, sir,” Ada said. “I want to help.”

“Didn’t mean for this to turn into a fuckin’ party,” Cait grumbled.

“Do you think you’ll survive until after the war?” I asked her. She hesitated; that was enough. “Lead on, Valentine.” I whistled for Dogmeat, and our party started southwest.

It took the whole day, but we found it. Vault 95 did in fact exist… and it was overrun with Gunners. I decided we should rest a few hours before attempting to sneak through in the middle of the night. Ada and Dogmeat would remain on guard outside, ready to provide a distraction and/or a second front should we come under fire. Cait, Valentine, and I would go inside. Dogmeat did not like being told to stay with the robot, but he obeyed.

The plan shifted when we saw the two assaultrons on guard. 

"I don't think sneakin' is goin' to get us past those things," Cait whispered.

"For once, I agree with her," Valentine muttered. "Not much by way of cover."

I sighed, "Then we'll have to fetch Ada and Dogmeat and bring them to the fight… or perhaps, bring the fight to them."

"I hate it when you're clever," Valentine said.

"You have previously given every indication that the opposite is true," I smiled.

"None of those other times involved intentionally pissing off assaultrons."

"Wait," Cait was alarmed, "just what exactly are you plannin'?"

"We're going to lure the assaultrons from their post. I've a few pulse grenades, which will help. Aim for the head; it is imperative that their laser be disabled if we are to survive."

"Imperative means important, right?" Cait whispered to Valentine as she took aim.

Valentine chuckled as he did the same, "Yep. Need anything to make sure you don't miss?"

"Need ya' to stop talkin'," she grumbled.

"God forbid I try to be helpful," Valentine sighed.

We struck. I might never stop finding fully functional and pursuing assaultrons terrifying. Ada and Dogmeat rushed to our aid as we led the assaultrons back to them; Dogmeat attacked the two Gunners who had followed as we tackled the machines. We managed to disable the optic laser of one before it had a chance to fire, but the second managed a shot… aimed directly at my partner.

I screamed as he dropped to the ground and rolled, the red beam striking the large rock he managed to take cover behind. With a wild yell, Cait charged the assaultron and dropped to fire point blank at its legs while I fired at its face. It's legs disabled, the machine crawled forward as Cait continued to pour shotgun shells into it. Valentine emerged, and I remembered to breathe.

"We got this one, Holmes," he shouted, "help Ada!"

The Gunners were down, but Ada was taking damage from the other assaultron in close combat. I rushed to her aid, following Cait’s example and crippling the legs as Ada steadily backed away, laser firing the whole time. At last the assaultrons were defeated, and we took stock of our situation.

“Ada, do you require repairs?” I asked.

“The damage appears worse than it is,” she reported. “I am still able to perform all functions, though perhaps not as efficiently as I would like.”

“Just gave Cait a stimpak,” Valentine said as they approached. Dogmeat hurried to us, sniffing and making all manner of sounds. Valentine patted him, “Good work on those Gunners, boy. Appreciate the help.”

“And you, Valentine?” I asked.

“Tail of my coat’s a little singed, but I’m alright, partner,” he smiled.

“Then let’s press on.”

More Gunners awaited us inside, along with the militarized Mr. Handy model known as a “Mr. Gutsy,” and multiple turrets. Still tired from the assaultrons, it was harder than perhaps it should have been, but we got through. Valentine’s throwing arm is impressive, and I don’t think he’ll criticize my habit of carrying grenades on every case for a time. The four of us, plus Dogmeat, fought our way through the vault’s corridors and eliminated anything in our way.

As we searched for the rumored machine that would help Cait, I wondered about the purpose of the place. The terminal in the Overseer’s office implied that the Overseer was an elected position, and thus couldn’t have any ties to Vault-Tec and its amoral experiments. Yet, the Overseer’s terminal explicitly stated the Vault’s intention to continue with its rehabilitation program. It was working. What happened?

We found the machine; to all appearances, a modified chair sitting in a chamber designated “The Clean Room,” a light positioned before it. I was skeptical. Cait was… scared.

“I dunno if I should do this,” she said, hesitating by the entrance.

“What?” I asked, “After you’ve come all this way?”

“I know you risked your life to get me down here, and I know I should just get it over with… but what if the psycho's the only thing keepin' me together?” She was trembling, “What if this opens me eyes and I don't like what I see? There were reasons I dulled the pain. Things I didn't want to face.... things I was tryin' to forget. I'd rather be spittin' blood than relivin' the past.”

Valentine spoke softly, “You’re a fighter, kid. Don’t give up now.”

She scoffed, but it didn’t have any heart to it. “Might be tired of fightin’.”

I smiled, “I find hard to believe, Miss Cait.” 

I reached for her hand. She breathed deep, took my hand, and walked to the chair. She stood before it a moment before saying with sudden certainty, “I’m gonna sit down. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead and throw the switch. Don’t tell me you’re going to, just do it.”

“Very well.”

She sat down. I turned the machine on. The light glowed, and she screamed in pain. I had to hold back both my partner and the dog, “Wait.”

“It’s hurting her!”

“Of course it is. You saw me after taking addictol, I imagine this is ten times worse.”

Fortunately, it only lasted a few moments longer. The light faded, Cait breathed quietly, and when she stood up, it was with a look of awe on her face.

“Cait?” I asked, “How do you feel?”

“Strange… really strange.” She walked over to us slowly, “Everythin' feels... different. Clearer. Colors, sounds... smells, nothin' is like I remember it.” For the first time, I saw her smile. “I... I can't believe it worked. The cravin's, the pain... hell, even the rush... they've disappeared.” The smile faded as she reflected, “Was I really that far gone?”

“I’m glad it worked,” I said.

“You’re not the only one. I’m never gonna forget this, Holmes. I mean it.” She turned to Valentine, “You too, Nick, I know you only came along to keep Holmes safe, but you still ended up helpin’ me and I appreciate it.”

Valentine smiled, “Everyone deserves their fair shot. You’ve got yours, don’t waste it. Now what do you say we get the hell out of here?”

“One moment first,” I said.

“Holmes,” Valentine crossed his arms.

“Sir,” Ada said, “you have helped your friend. This seems an opportune time to escape this place.”

“And you’ve got to deal with the robot’s business,” Cait said. “I kept you from that long enough.”

I was already moving back through the vault, “I want to know why it failed.”

“Why what failed?” Cait shouted after me.

“Vault 95!”

“Why the bloody hell does that matter!”

“No use arguing with him,” Valentine said, “just try to keep up!”

I descended the stairs to what, according to the map in the Overseer’s office, would have been the residential area. I had assumed, in an unusual display of naivete, that the presence of chems in the Vault was a result of the Gunners inhabiting it. I was wrong.

A stash of chems and alcohol was held in a closet by the stairs, along with multiple bodies in vault suits. In the room to the right of the stash were two bodies surrounded by a tea party with mannequin attendees, psycho, and jet. Everywhere a skeleton was found, chems or a bottle were nearby. 

My companions had caught up to me. Cait whistled softly, “Why would there be a stash in this Vault? Unless… oh. Vault-Tec. Experimentin' again, I bet.”

“So it seems,” I growled. I was furious. The private logs on the terminals revealed all the rest of the information I needed. The program had worked. For five years, Vault 95 developed into a family, a support system that actually worked to help people cope with their addiction… and then the Vault-Tec operative hiding in their midst opened a hidden stash of chems, just to see what would happen. Everything fell apart.

“Damn them to hell,” I muttered. “So many people’s lives destroyed, just so someone in a lab coat could see how tentative an addict’s grasp on sobriety can be. Some of them resisted for a time, but when their entire world was ripped out from under them, their refuge of peace and community turned into a war zone…”

“Fuckin’ animals,” Cait said. “Vault-Tec, I mean. Not the poor wretches who suffered for it.”

“Indeed.”

“You wanted to know,” she said.

I nodded, “I did. Let’s go.”

We left that place and headed northeast.


	11. Chapter 11

We decided to head for Jamaica Plain, planning to reach it late in the evening to rest and move north from there. The party was quiet as we walked for most of the way. Cait was in a state of awe at the sensations assaulting her senses at first, unhindered by a haze of chems and/or withdrawal for the first time in years, but she adapted quickly. Eventually, her curiosity caught up to her. 

“Holmes? I’ve got a… personal question.”

“Yes?”

“When you showed me your arm, back when ye tried to get me to go clean? I was wonderin’ what the chem was. I mean, you’re supposed to be pre-War, yeah? Can’t imagine a family man shootin’ up with psycho everyday.”

“I’ve tried a variety of substances, but I never had any desire to take anything that might make me exceedingly violent. And I didn’t become ‘a family man’ until much later.”

“Betcha were the type to eat mentats like candy.”

“Ha! Guilty as charged.”

“So, what’re the scars from, then?”

I sighed, “In my young and rebellious days it was a simple cocaine solution. As prescription drugs became easier to obtain with a variety of useful effects, I took to using Calmex, among others.”

She whistled low, “I heard of that stuff. Why?”

“It kept me from going insane, or so I told myself. Kept my mind from running itself ragged, the constant need for stimulation, kept black moods at bay.”

“Hell, a bottle of whiskey not enough?”

I smiled, “Depressants have their place, but stimulants were more… satisfying.” I noticed Valentine had changed his pace to match mine, walking close but trying not to hover. I reached for his hand. “Addiction nearly cost me my career, and my life. It took the efforts of my very determined and compassionate wife to clean me up,” my hand tightened around Valentine’s, “and my equally compassionate partner after my relapse two hundred years later.”

Cait thought about this for a moment. “Lucky guy.”

“Extremely,” I nodded. "I'm glad you were lucky enough to have Hancock and Piper looking out for you."

She scoffed, blushing. "Hancock was lookin' after an investment," she muttered.

"You don't truly believe that."

She shrugged, "Don't see any other reason he'd help."

"One way to find out," Valentine said.

Cait made a noncommittal noise, and the subject was closed.

We reached Jamaica Plain well after sunset, and were met by a Minuteman on guard. "Evening," he said, casting a confused look across our odd group. "What brings you to Jamaica Plain?"

"Tracking down the Mechanist." I held out a hand, "General Holmes. I haven't had the pleasure?"

"Name's Stills… General?" He was surprised, and a bit skeptical. 

"Don't your own fuckin' soldiers know you?" Cait teased.

"I haven't met every single Minuteman," I sighed, "especially most of the 'old guard' who have returned."

"Ignore the Silver Shroud costume," Valentine drawled with a chuckle. "The Lockheeds still in residence?"

"Jane and Joan?" Stills asked, still wondering if I was truly who I said I was, "They're still here. Are you Nick Valentine?"

"In the synthetic flesh. Have we met?"

"No, but the Lockheeds mentioned you, and my patrolmates said…" his attention returned to me, dread in his voice, "oh hell you really are, aren't you?"

I laughed, "I am. Don't worry, it's my own fault for not being more present among the Minutemen. It seems Jamaica Plain is thriving, even after that Gunner attack a month ago?"

"Bounced back real quick, sir," Stills nodded. "Wainwright and her crew at the checkpoint were a huge help."

"Were you and your, ah, patrolmates sent from the Castle?"

"Yessir. Nash, Crosby, and I were sent down after the Gunner attack to help, and then stayed on as a guard against killer robots and potential Brotherhood conflict."

"I see. I've met Nash and Crosby, they're Danse trainees."

"Yes, sir," Stills smiled, "a fine pair. The Lt. Colonel can sure train 'em. We've some spare rooms you and your friends can use toward the center of the settlement."

We thanked him and found a place to stay for the night. Ada volunteered to assist with guard duties, as did Valentine. I was delighted to see Jane and Joan Lockheed both in good health, and Jane instantly engaged Cait in conversation regarding preferred methods of killing Gunners. Joan confided that Jane has been a bit on edge after her injuries during the Gunner attack. Cait was happy to compare techniques.

I sat outside by a low fire with my pipe as the night grew dark, Radio Freedom playing softly from within the house.

I felt a thin hand on my shoulder, "Might want to put some more fuel on that fire if you're planning on staying out here," Valentine said.

I reached up to lace my fingers in his, “I’ll come in, soon.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you to freeze. Might wake up another couple centuries later.”

“What a terrifying thought,” I scoffed. “Would you be waiting?”

“Well past my warranty,” he chuckled, and bent down to lightly kiss the side of my face, “but if I was still around, I’d be the first thing you saw when you woke up.”

I smiled, “My dear Valentine, you are the one fixed point in a changing age.”

“Hm. Are you saying I'm stubborn, or just too damn old?”

“I was praising your constancy of character.”

He was amused, “I'll take your word for it. What’s got you in a meditative mood tonight?”

I drew deeply on my pipe, savoring the sensation before watching the smoke on the chill air as I considered my answer. "There's still so much I haven't prepared for, Nick. So many possibilities I know I haven't considered. I feel like I have run out of time and I've only just begun."

"Despite what you seem to think," he said softly, "you’re only human. No one expects you to pull off a miracle, Sherlock, except maybe yourself. And I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the people fighting in your corner."

I sighed, and nodded. He was right. I didn't like it, but I knew he was right. "My wife often said the same thing," I muttered. "'There are limits, even for you, Holmes.'"

"The more I hear about this woman, the more I like her."

I smiled, "You would have adored each other." 

As I stood with a stretch, the Voice of the Minutemen came over the radio. 

_"Good evening. This is Radio Freedom, the Voice of the Minutemen. We have just received word that Mechanist robots attacked County Crossing, but were defeated by Minutemen forces, with the help of the mercenary friendly to the cause, Mr. MacCready. Mechanist robots have also attacked Mass Fusion repeatedly, according to sources in Goodneighbor, but were defeated each time. A few robots made it to Goodneighbor's door, but we're taken down by Mayor Hancock's Neighborhood Watch. In other news, vertibird patrols continue—"_

Valentine stepped inside to turn off the radio. "If we're going to get all the way to Goodneighbor tomorrow, then one of us needs a night of rest without worrying about vertibird air patterns," he said from the doorway.

I tried not to be annoyed. "Valentine, I recognize your intent, but please trust me. I will rest at some point, but I can't right now. I would love nothing more than to sit on a nest of pillows smoking all night in thought and meet tomorrow settled in mind."

He considered me a long moment. "You'd do that on a tough case, huh?"

"Particularly challenging matters were 'three pipe problems.'"

He smirked at that, but returned his thoughtful gaze. "Alright. Just do me a favor and get in here? Too damn cold out tonight, and we don't have any pillows."

I laughed a little in spite of myself, some small relief at his reaction as I joined him, "I'll make do without pillows."

"If you say so." He lit a cigarette, but it was more an action to fill time than any need, "Holmes, if I get too, uh… overbearing, let me know."

I was surprised. "I'd hardly call you overbearing."

"You know what I mean. Everything happening lately… I'm worried about you, that you're pushing yourself too hard and being too hard on yourself. But I also know you need space and your usual methods of staying sane don't always look like everyone else's. I'm not gonna stop worrying and trying to look out for you, but I don't want to lecture you on what you already know works best for you, either."

I was stunned, my answer quiet, "I'll do my best to listen, and to try to explain what I need. Thank you, Nick."

He shrugged, "Well, I'll try my best not to assume you're being a drama queen."

I rolled my eyes as we went inside, "Honestly."

"You're right, that's too much. I'll just keep telling myself you aren't going to freeze to death."

"... Are you implying the idea I might _not_ be dramatic is ridiculous?"

"Said the man in a Shroud costume?"

"You are infuriating, Mr. Valentine."

"And yet you love me, Mr. Holmes."

I did not respond apart from a huff and holding his hand through the night. He laughed, and stayed by my side, content to let me spend the night in quiet thought and eventual deeper rest.


	12. Chapter 12

Valentine woke me before dawn. “Bad news, Holmes.”

I sat up and saw the Minuteman standing behind him. She saluted briefly, “Sorry to wake you, sir, but it’s urgent.”

I thought I recognized her, “Proceed… Nash, wasn’t it?”

“Yessir,” she smiled at my recollection before somberly stating, “there’s been trouble in Sanctuary.”

She had my undivided attention, “Explain.”

“A squad of Brotherhood camped out in Concord without us knowing. They sent a soldier into Sanctuary for recon, but he was discovered by one of those robots Sturges has been working on. Fight broke out, Minutemen joined the fray, no Brotherhood survivors. Colonel Garvey thinks they didn’t have a chance to send a distress signal. According to the orders present on one of them, they were to wait for Maxson’s signal to attack.”

“He has his people in position,” I sighed, irritated. “We’re out of time."

"The hell we are," Valentine huffed. "There's still a maniac out there setting psychotic robots loose on the Commonwealth, and the Minutemen aren't gonna just stand by and let the Brotherhood walk all over them. We finish the job we started, and take what comes."

"You're right," I jumped up and started getting ready to leave, an urgent energy I hadn't felt in too long surging through me. "Find Ada and wake Cait, we'll breakfast on the road. We haven't a moment to lose."

We hurried north, reaching Goodneighbor a few hours after sundown. Cait requested we stop for a moment so that she could speak with Hancock. I agreed; I also wanted to speak with Goodneighbor's mayor, especially considering the war's imminent arrival.

We found him in his office, as expected. Unexpectedly, he was in the middle of a heated discussion with a visitor.

"Bad enough Diamond City isn’t doing anything, why don't—“

“What am I supposed to do, Piper, huh? Brotherhood come for us, let ’em, we’re ready to defend our walls, but if I lead a crew against a skyscraper full of soldiers, how do you think that’s gonna end?”

“We could use Zhao’s missiles or—“

“I ain’t convinced that submarine’s really going to be able to strike all the way out here, assuming it’s even still there. Ain’t willing to risk my people’s blood on it, that’s for sure.”

Piper groaned, frustrated, “Fine, sit here if you want, but I have to do something, there has to be some way I can help. Blue’s in Jamaica Plain last I heard, maybe I can find him.” She turned and saw us coming up the stairs. To my surprise, her gaze went straight to one of my companions rather than me. “Cait!”

Hancock rushed to the doorway to see for himself. "Well," he grinned, "Welcome back."

Cait was suddenly withdrawn, another stunning development, "Hey."

“You ok?” Piper asked.

“Fine,” Cait shrugged, “Never better, actually. Uh. Thanks, for worryin’.” She huffed and regained her usual confidence, “We can talk an' all later, but Holmes has business with ya, Hancock.”

“Why do I get the feeling this business ain’t the fun kind,” Hancock said with a swagger, “despite what the outfit suggests?”

“Maxson will give the order to attack soon," I said, "possibly in a few days, possibly in a few minutes.”

“C’mon, you ain’t gonna be in character this time? I’m disappointed, Shroud.”

I ignored him. “Did I overhear mention of a submarine?”

“There’s a Chinese sub in the bay,” Piper explained. “It’s been stuck there since the War. The Captain turned ghoul, been living there ever since.”

“We helped get him seaworthy, and for payment we get a single shot of his missiles,” Hancock said.

“You sure you two ain’t been sharin’ a bad batch of somethin’?” Cait asked.

“You know Piper won’t touch chems,” Hancock scoffed.

"I have an idea for how those missiles would be extremely useful," I said.

"Ask me like the Shroud," Hancock broadly smiled, "and we'll see what we can do."

We continued our trip north, this time in the company of Piper. Hancock didn't want to leave his town on the eve of war, and I didn't attempt to convince him otherwise. Cait and Piper continued on toward the airport while Valentine, Ada, and I went to the RobCo Sales & Service Center, where Ada reported the Mechanist’s lair was hidden.

"A robot-building villain hiding out in a run down robot shop?" Valentine commented as we stepped inside and saw a showroom for RobCo-brand terminals, most of which were long destroyed.

"I doubt this was ever simply a shop," I said.

"You mean because the Mechanist had to get the robobrains from somewhere, and they sure weren't selling those to the public?" Valentine asked as he went behind the service desk.

"We should look in the garage and see if there's any indication of a hidden entrance." 

"Laser tripwire behind the 'employees only' door seems a good place to start."

I hurried over, Ada following. After disabling the tripwire, we passed through the corridor to a basement area with a blastproof door, a strange device to the side of it.

“Allow me, sirs,” Ada approached the door and activated the M-SAT device Sturges had installed from Jezebel’s plans. 

The door opened, and we entered the underground facility.

What we found was the remains of a nightmare. Criminals housed in cells were later operated upon to remove their brains, which were then wiped of memories and run through a series of tests before being mounted to any number of devices. Many brains were still preserved, thus providing the Mechanist with necessary material without needing new subjects. According to the terminals, not all of the memory wipes were successful. Minds that woke, panicked in the dark, were destroyed. One transcript showed a psychopath unconcerned with his new lack of body and firm conviction that every scientist in the facility would be killed was seen as a prime candidate for a tactical team. Even before the War, there were indications of the robobrains misinterpreting orders, the flexibility of the human mind rewiring itself to fit what it thinks is the more efficient option. This place was the perfect example of the military and their scientists being so focused on whether or not they could accomplish their goal, they never stopped to wonder if they should. Then at some point this Mechanist found the facility, and picked up where they left off.

I don’t want to dwell on what we saw down there. I noticed a decontamination corridor as we entered, leading to an elevator with an access terminal requiring voice authorization. Imagining we had no choice, we fought our way past a variety of robots guarding the facility until I was fortunate enough to find holotapes recorded by the supervisor of each department. I hoped that these would be enough to trigger the vocal recognition and unlock the elevator. I was correct. 

The elevator took us to a control room with computer banks all along the walls, each terminal manned by a small robobrain that rapidly typed orders to run the facility. The room was filled with the noise of terminal keys clacking, and there in the middle stood a figure in the costume of a comic book character - The Mechanist.

“Well, hell, Shroud, you were right,” Valentine muttered. 

“Impossible!” The Mechanist declared as we were spotted, “I control all points of access to this room!”

“You underestimated me,” I said. “The Silver Shroud is no common criminal.”

The Mechanist was confused, “The Silver Shroud?” Confusion turned to disdain, and furthered my suspicion of the Mechanist’s mental instability, “I cannot believe someone so respected, so honorable, would come here and destroy my robots. Your reign of terror ends here, Shroud!”

I had to think quickly, “The Shroud, as always, walks the path of justice. It is you who has fallen, Mechanist.”

“Lies, Shroud! Lies! The Commonwealth has suffered more than its fair share of injustices because of you.”

“The Silver Shroud is no villain. The only guilty here are you and your relentless automatons.”

“My bots would never violate their protocol!”

Valentine had had enough. “Those bots are killing innocent people!”

“My friends were simple traders,” Ada said. “All dead at the hands of your robots.”

The Mechanist was shaken, “No. The robots are programmed to protect. Their subroutines are clean: observe, evaluate, and react accordingly.”

“They're misinterpreting orders,” I tried to explain. “Your own robobrain said as much. They're saving people by killing them.”

“Saving by... killing? I don't believe you. They can't alter their programming. They're programmed to save people, not kill them. And the data! They were always reporting hostiles killed and lives... saved.” The Mechanist paused in a moment of horrible realization. “No, it's... the logic... it's there... I can see it now. I was hoping it was the robobrains, an issue with their memory wipes... but you're right. Their primary directive was flawed.”

“Memory wipes?” Valentine asked.

The Mechanist nodded, “Yes. The human brain has a way of… rewiring itself. If not properly maintained, it can… corrupt.”

"Corrupt?! That's the understatement of the year.”

I tried to keep the Mechanist focused on the truth, “A serious flaw, and a dangerous one at that.”

“It is,” the Mechanist agreed, “but the process is thorough. They're wiped after each mission. They're... I found it's best to not let them recall what they've been through.”

Ada spoke, “The introduction of a human brain creates too many unknown variables. You can’t claim to know them all.”

“There's probably a reason these robots weren't in mass production,” Valentine muttered.

We had gotten through, but the Mechanist was still in denial. “I… I need to think. I took every precaution…”

“You know we are telling you the truth,” I said. “Your robots are dangerous. They had to be stopped.”

The Mechanist shook his head in disgrace, “... the hero unknowingly became the villain. I wanted to help the Commonwealth… and robots are all I know. I found this place and figured I could do my part. I accept full responsibility. I can’t take back what I’ve done or even atone for it… but this doesn’t have to end in violence.”

I was relieved to hear it. I gave the Shroud one final moment; “Though your action initially appeared felonious, your intent was not. Seek redemption, Mechanist. You have much to atone for.”

With a sigh of relief, the Mechanist declared, “Done. Consider it done. And you won't regret this, I promise. None of the Commonwealth will.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, and removed the hat. “Permit me to introduce myself properly. I am Sherlock Holmes, of Valentine’s Detective Agency, and General of the Minutemen. This is my partner Nick Valentine, and our friend Ada.”

The Mechanist, with great trepidation, carefully removed the mask to reveal a young woman. “I’m Isabel. Isabel Cruz.”

“Can I ask why the Mechanist get-up?” Valentine gently asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m… not good with people. The Mechanist gave me a way to put myself out there without really being out there at all. I grew up on a settlement, I’ve seen how good people struggle against raiders and super mutants. I never wanted to be counted among them. But all my technical knowledge, all of these resources, and I still failed. I only ever wanted to make the Commonwealth a safer place.” She held out a holotape, “Here. Take this. It's the password to the mainframe. Use the password to shut down the security. After that, the base is yours.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Cruz, I think you should stay,” I said.

“What?”

“You want to help the Commonwealth? Work for me as a resource for the Minutemen, and you will have a chance to do just that.”

She was stunned. “The Minutemen? You… you want me to build robots for your army?”

“Units to support troops will be extremely helpful, but primarily I thought you could put your efforts to good use creating defenders for settlements.”

“There are still many rogue robots roaming the Commonwealth,” Ada pointed out. “The Minutemen will need all the help they can get, especially once this war is over.”

Ms. Cruz nervously nodded. “I’ll… I’ll try my best. Maybe I can fix some of the damage I’ve done.”

The facility's security was disabled, and Ms. Cruz gave us a proper tour of her assembly line and her capabilities. She is a nervous young woman, now guilt-ridden, but with determination and drive. I promised she would hear from my Chief Engineer soon.

Ada asked to speak with me. "While not wholly unexpected, that outcome was not the one I believed to have the highest probability."

No, it certainly wasn't. "Are you disappointed I let her live?"

She sounded concerned, "I do have conflicting outlooks, but I trust your judgment. The guilt of her actions is a punishment in itself."

"You don't quite believe that," I observed.

"I do trust your judgement, but yes, I also have doubts concerning Isabel's… potential. She could use a companion she didn't build herself."

"Are you volunteering?"

"Yes, sir. The mission was a success; the Commonwealth doesn't have to fear the Mechanist any longer. I would like to stay and make sure it never does again. She will also need help working for the Minutemen, and I will assist however I can."

"I think that's an excellent idea, Ada. For now, I wonder if we might be able to convince the newly reformed Mechanist to provide a few scrapbots for our use?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "trouble in Sanctuary" mentioned is detailed in Chapter 36 of _Occurrences._
> 
> I hope everyone has had a positive start to the new year. Thanks for sticking with the story; my apologies for the irregular updates. I want to make sure I get everything in order before I post more. We're almost to the end...


	13. Chapter 13

Valentine and I made our way through Boston, four of the Mechanist’s— rather, Ms. Cruz’s— robots in tow. Bunker Hill was locked up tight for the impending violence; even the raiders seemed quieter than usual. The whole city felt like it was holding its breath. 

An explosion came from the direction of the Old North Church. We hurried on, leaving the Brotherhood to their raid which would yield nothing, and soon heard a missile fire to the south; Goodneighbor was under attack. 

The Neighborhood Watch fired on their attackers from behind their walls, riddled with laser burns but still intact. The Brotherhood fired from Mass Fusion’s windows, from behind corners and makeshift cover. A Brotherhood soldier in power armor charged the door, which swung open to reveal Fahrenheit and her minigun firing at point blank range. The soldier staggered but fired back as he fell, sending her to the ground as the door was slammed shut again. I ordered our robots to join the fight, and over the wall of the town appeared Mayor Hancock, a Gatling laser in hand, with a bandaged Fahrenheit beside him. They unleashed a spray of lasers and bullets on the forces below. A soldier with a missile launcher took aim, and was tackled by one of our robots with electrified blades for arms.

Then Kleo appeared on the roof of the State House. The assaultron arms dealer held a modified missile launcher, which she fired into the Mass Fusion building as her laser charged. The Brotherhood focused all their fire on her, but Hancock and Fahrenheit were relentless in their assault on the ground forces as the remaining soldiers in the building were forced to exit by Kleo’s attack. The Neighborhood Watch shot through every gap in the wall they could fit a gun barrel through. The street was a sea of bullets.

Valentine and I watched the massacre from around a corner, taking shelter behind crumbled concrete. The silence that followed as the last Brotherhood soldier fell was as deafening as the battle.

Valentine stepped out of our cover, moving forward slowly. “Hancock? I’d appreciate not gettin’ shot today.”

“Nick! Stand down, everyone, it’s over. Fahr, make sure anyone hurt gets the help they need. Nick, Holmes with you?”

“I am,” I followed Valentine out. 

Hancock disappeared behind Goodneighbor’s wall and was soon out its door to meet us in the street, “I just want you to know, it wasn’t our fault.”

Valentine and I glanced at each other. “What wasn’t?”

“The attack. We didn’t shoot first, it was those fucking mutants down the street, decide to get bored and—”

“Hancock,” I interrupted, “start again.”

Hancock was a spring of tightly wound anger as he pointed to each part of the story he told, “Mutants. Down the road. Decide to have some fun. Walked up to Mass Fusion, started shooting the ‘bucketheads.’ One of my guys hears the shooting, decides he’s gonna take some shots at mutants, and sure enough the Brotherhood decide a stray bullet’s a full fucking attack and we’re getting shot at from all directions. So now all those goddamn tin soldiers are dead.”

I saw the super mutant corpses by the Mass Fusion building. So much blood spilled over a mistake. “Damn it… wait. Maxson hasn’t given the order to attack yet?”

Hancock shrugged dramatically, “Guess not?”

I frowned, “What’s stopping him? What could he possibly be waiting for…” I hurried into Goodneighbor, “I need to borrow Kent’s radio.”

There was some interference over the signal, but I was able to make contact with Radio Freedom; Liberty Prime had been activated, and shortly afterward Maxson's vertibirds had attacked the Castle. The Castle returned fire as the airport was destroyed in a massive explosion, taking Prime down and the Prydwen with it. It was unclear which event resulted in the destruction of the other, but the important information was that both Liberty Prime and the Prydwen were destroyed. The attacking vertibirds had all been shot down. There were no survivors.

"We need to get to the Castle as quickly as we can," I said to Valentine on our way out of town, "I need to hear all the reports of Brotherhood activity as they come in, and hopefully we can deduce Maxson's strategy."

"'No survivors suggests—"

"I don't believe for a minute that Maxson perished on the Prydwen. He knew activating Liberty Prime would bring the Prydwen's destruction, and he didn't strike me as suicidal when we last spoke."

"Alright, then where is he?"

“We won’t find out waiting here.”

Hancock wished us luck and remained behind to see to his people. Our robots had unfortunately all been destroyed in the fight, so Valentine and I continued on alone. There were no vertibirds overhead as we moved south, or any other sign of a Brotherhood presence in the city. 

Raiders were still in residence as we passed Andrew Station, and already harassing another pair of passersby. Unfortunately for the raiders, the two men were friends of mine, and capable soldiers at that.

"You'd think power armor would give a raider with a pipe pistol reason to pause," Valentine said as we joined the fight.

"I think they consider it a challenge," I said as Danse cleanly executed the raider in question.

Preston was supporting him from a range, ducking behind whatever cover he could find. They were an effective team; I would have expected nothing less.

“General!” Preston shouted as he saw us, “Guess you stopped the Mechanist?”

“She’s working for us now!” I drew my blade and stopped the raider charging me as Valentine shot the one behind us.

Preston laughed, “Of course she is!”

We focused on the fight and soon the last raider fell. Danse approached us, "Thank you for the assist, General. Are you headed to the Castle?"

"I am," I nodded. "I presume you are as well?"

"Sanctuary's secure," Preston said, "and we thought we'd be of more use in the fight."

"Then you haven't heard." They looked at each other, and then at me. I sighed, "The Prydwen and Liberty Prime were both destroyed."

Preston's brow rose. I couldn't see Danse's expression through his helmet. I wished I could have. 

I continued, "There was an unsuccessful vertibird attack on the Castle. None of the Brotherhood soldiers survived, with minimal casualties to the Minutemen. I don't know what Maxson's plan was, or where he currently is. I find it hard to believe he would have stayed behind on the Prydwen when he knew it would be the Castle's primary target."

Danse turned his head to look away a moment, then looked at me again. "The likeliest possibilities are that he led the attack on the Castle, or he relocated, likely to Cambridge."

"We'll see if the Castle has gathered any more information when we arrive," I said, and we continued on.

"General?" Preston asked, "Did Deacon get those Squires off the Prydwen?"

"I don't know." I sighed, "There's a great deal of information I wish I had."

"We're all doing what we can with what we've got," Valentine quietly said.

We made it to the Castle with minimal trouble, the usual wildlife and unsavory residents of Boston our only hindrances. The Castle's walls were damaged but still standing, the wrecks of vertibirds scattered across soil, sand, and water. The bodies of Brotherhood soldiers lay near the wrecks and by the Castle gates. I saw Danse looking at them as we walked. He softly answered Preston's quiet concern, "I don't recognize any of them."

There was some commotion inside the Castle as we neared. Our arrival was being announced; Ronnie Shaw greeted us as we entered. "General. Wasn't expecting the Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel, too, but glad to see. I imagine you'll want to talk to him."

I was a bit alarmed, "Speak to whom, Ms. Shaw?"

She shrugged and lit a cigarette, "Well. Turns out we might have jumped the gun when we said there were no survivors."

There had been one survivor. He sat on the floor of the cell with what might have been stoic patience were it not for the smoldering annoyance in his glare. He'd nearly died; he owed his life to Curie's improved stimpaks and Strong's enthusiasm for sharing the flesh of his enemy with "Minutemen brothers," bringing him inside the walls and enabling Ms. Shaw to recognize he needed medical attention.

Elder Arthur Maxson did not appreciate the irony.

None of the Minutemen in the Castle knew who he was, and why would they? They'd never seen him, and Maxson had remained perfectly silent since they put him in a cell. 

I spoke to him alone. "Elder."

"General. Paladin Brandis told me you sent an agent to take the Squires off the Prydwen."

That was not the first thing I'd expected him to say. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if I could prevent the death of a child, it was worth the risk. I would have preferred to prevent the death of anyone, but neither of us were willing to compromise our fundamental values."

"What sort of people would we be if we had?" It was a question that required no answer. Maxson stood, "It was unnecessary, I evacuated the airport and Prydwen. The Squires would have been sent to Cambridge anyway."

"I'm glad to hear that. I had no way of being certain of that at the time."

Maxson merely nodded. 

I was tired. "Elder Maxson, if I bring the leader of the Railroad here and obtain her promise that synths will not be clandestinely sent to the Capital Wasteland, will the Brotherhood of Steel leave the Commonwealth?"

"No. We will leave because we have an entire eastern seaboard to explore. We will leave because the Prydwen and our greatest weapon were destroyed, weaknesses exposed that will be remedied. We will leave so that we can evolve, and not fall into the stagnation that plagued our West Coast brethren. We will leave because the means of producing synths is gone, as it should be. If a synth is ever discovered in the Capital Wasteland, or anyplace the Brotherhood have a presence, it will be destroyed."

"Understood."

"It would be easier to transport my forces if you hadn’t blown up my ship."

"If you hadn’t activated Liberty Prime, it wouldn’t have been destroyed."

"I didn’t.”

That surprised me, “I beg your pardon?”

His jaw was set, I could practically hear his teeth grind as he admitted, “Someone disobeyed orders.”

The admission was shocking. “You’ve no idea whom?”

“I have my suspicions, but I won’t know until I hear who is present and accounted for in Cambridge.”

“Of course. Speaking of Cambridge, we’ll be happy to escort you there, Elder. Any help the Minutemen can provide to expedite the Brotherhood of Steel's departure will be given. I'll inform the Minutemen to let the Brotherhood leave."

"If I can borrow your radio tower, I'll order the Brotherhood to assemble in Cambridge without engaging Minutemen forces."

"And hopefully none of our soldiers will disobey orders."

"Mine won't," he said with perfect confidence, and a look in his eyes that eloquently expressed what would happen to those who had.

I retrieved the keys from the solitary guard and escorted Elder Maxson to the Castle courtyard. The Minutemen looked at us curiously as we passed. Preston, Danse, and Valentine were all gathered near Radio Freedom talking with Shaw. Danse held his helmet under his arm. Maxson frowned, and pointedly looked elsewhere. 

As they saw us coming, Valentine’s eyes went wide. Preston’s jaw dropped. Danse winced, closed his eyes with a deep breath, and his expression cleared. He focused on me and said, “Shaw has been filling us in regarding activity across the Commonwealth. All of our settlements have reported a stand-off of sorts; the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers are clearly present and awaiting orders to attack. Our men are growing…” he permitted himself a slight smile, “restless. To quote a recent report from Mr. MacCready, ‘Been aiming at these bastards for hours, when do I get to shoot someone?’”

“Then there’s no time to waste,” I said. “Ms. Shaw, permit me to present Elder Arthur Maxson of the Brotherhood of Steel. He and I will use Radio Freedom to signal our respective forces to stand down.”

Everyone stared.

“Huh,” said Shaw. “Younger than I imagined. Well, ain’t how I thought all this would end, but I don’t see why that should surprise me anymore. You just tell me what you need from the Castle. Til then, I’m going to see to those repairs and check on our wounded, if that’s alright with you?”

I smiled, “Perfectly, Ms. Shaw. Thank you.”

“Question." Valentine asked, "What happens after your respective armies peacefully stand down?”

I looked at Maxson for the answer. He clearly didn't like addressing a machine, but I suppose he thought it was better than risking insult. "The Brotherhood of Steel are leaving the Commonwealth."

"Are you serious?" Preston exclaimed. Danse was silently thunderstruck. Preston continued, "After everything, you're just… giving up?"

"The Railroad are scattered, their headquarters destroyed. The Institute is long gone, the ability to produce more synths with them. The Brotherhood of Steel cannot afford to pour more resources into a single region of the coast so far removed from the Capital, and I have no intention of letting a single obsession dictate the Brotherhood's long-term goals. Good luck with your corner of the world, Colonel. May the Minutemen be content with it."

"And God help the synth that wanders southward," Valentine drawled.

"Exactly," Maxson said.

Preston let his breath out slow and shrugged, still amazed, "Ok. Let's get you on your way."

We issued our orders. Valentine, Danse, Preston, and I would escort Elder Maxson to Cambridge, and we would organize the departure of the Brotherhood. I informed Ms. Shaw of the Mechanist's identity and intention to work for the Minutemen. Maxson smirked when he overheard, unsurprised.

"Institute scientists, mercenaries, abominations, and now a robotics terrorist," he said as we set off from the Castle. “Is there anyone you don’t recruit?”

“Gunners, raiders, super mutants unacquainted with the works of Shakespeare, and Brotherhood soldiers.”

He made an amused sound. 

“This is surreal,” Preston muttered.

Danse chuckled, then slowed his pace, “Ferals ahead,” he reported, and he and Preston took the lead in eliminating them.

The rest of the trip was quiet and relatively uneventful, though there were plenty of occasions to witness Elder Maxson’s skill in battle; not once did he shy from combat. I was glad that at no point did I ever have to fight this young man. He ignored Danse the entire time, maintaining his promise that Danse was dead to him. Danse did not attempt to engage.

It was night by the time we reached the crowded bustle of Cambridge. The entire Brotherhood of Steel army present in the Commonwealth was descending upon the police station, and had spread throughout the surrounding ruined buildings to form makeshift camps while a harried and annoyed Proctor Teagan attempted to coordinate the placement of newly arrived troops.

"Make camp wherever you can find room, everyone's using field rations until I can assess and ration out our supplies. Knight-Captain Cade's got a clinic set up next door. No, I don't know where the Elder is, or what the hell the plan is after this. Lancer-Captain Kells is on top of the station, trying to coordinate the remaining vertibirds that all want to land somewhere. Of course I heard what happened to the airport! Now go do something useful!"

"Proctor Teagan," Maxson's voice carried, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea.

"About damn time! Uh, Elder, sir. What..." he noticed the rest of us, keeping our distance. "... I don't suppose they're here to surrender?"

"They are not. I have an announcement, where can everyone hear it?"

"Stand on the steps of the station and shout," Proctor Teagan shrugged.

So he did. No, it is inaccurate of me to say Elder Maxson shouted. He stood on the steps to the Cambridge Police Station, waited a few minutes for everyone's attention, and spoke, his voice projecting out over the army before him like some grand commander of ancient history. 

"The Brotherhood of Steel is leaving the Commonwealth," Maxson announced. "We have spent long enough hunting synths scattered through this region. The means of producing synths were destroyed, the Railroad smuggling them is now without a headquarters to work from, and any synth remaining in the Commonwealth is by now so deeply entrenched as to be impossible to ferret out. So be it. Let the Commonwealth see the results of these machines hiding in their midst. There are other cities to be explored and purged of abominations. The Brotherhood of Steel must evolve and expand if we are to succeed in our goal to protect humanity from itself. We cannot do that if our efforts are solely focused here. We must not become stagnant and isolated. We will return to the Capital Wasteland to rebuild and take stock of what we have discovered, and then we will move on to the next target. Let the Minutemen have Boston. We have the entire eastern seaboard to explore." 

"Man makes a good speech," Preston begrudgingly muttered.

“I like this speech better than the first one I heard him make,” Valentine commented.

Maxson continued, “I will meet with all three Proctors, and Lancer-Captain Kells, immediately. General Holmes,” all eyes turned toward us, “has volunteered to assist with our operation. We’ll be using his resources to stock up before we leave. The rest of you, to your camps or posts. The Proctors will have instructions for you once we have a firmer plan to proceed. Dismissed.”

Cambridge was a buzz of rumor and commentary as the soldiers followed orders. We quickly, if awkwardly, made our way inside the crowded police station. Anyone who wasn’t a Proctor or Maxson’s second in command hastened out the door. One of the soldiers leaving wore sunglasses.

My company and I stood to the side and out of the way as the Brotherhood leadership gathered.

“I can't believe we're asking for help from the people who blew up our ship in the first place,” Proctor Quinlan grumbled.

"If my orders had been followed, the Prydwen would still be there," Maxson glared. "Instead, someone activated Liberty Prime, triggering the Minutemen to attack the airport as I expected them to." 

Valentine lit a cigarette and said in a low voice, “A bit ironic the machine designed to fight the Chinese ended up destroyed by a sub’s missiles.”

Though he had intended the comment for Danse and Preston, all of the Brotherhood present stared at him. 

“A Chinese submarine’s missiles,” said Kells, skeptical.

“How on earth did you get a Chinese submarine?!” Quinlan exclaimed with a gesture to me.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Preston said.

“I didn’t,” I said. “A friend of mine did. The captain turned ghoul two hundred years ago after the War, and—”

“If we could focus,” Maxson interrupted, “please. Proctor Ingram, who knew how to activate Liberty Prime?”

"Anyone on my team, sir, but they're all accounted for… except Dr. Li."

I sighed, “Ah.”

Elder Maxson took a deep breath. “Do you want to expand on that, General?”

“I merely wonder if she wanted revenge,” I explained. “After all, first I destroyed her life with the Institute, now I was at war with the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“You think she activated the giant robot of death just to spite you?” Preston asked.

"I could see that," muttered Proctor Ingram. Proctor Teagan nodded beside her.

I shrugged, “We'll never know, unless she miraculously survived and somehow is found again. Unfortunately, if she managed to get out of the airport before it was destroyed, the chances of anyone ever seeing her again are slim to none, at best.” I smirked, bitterly amused, "Human minds present too many variables. It’s impossible to predict them all."

"What?"

I waved away the confusion, "Something a recent acquaintance of mine learned. Elder Maxson, what can the Minutemen provide to assist with your departure?”

Thus the real planning started. Those that were on patrol or stationed further west likely wouldn’t reach Cambridge for another day or so. Paladin Brandis had returned from his mission at the Old North Church, which left only the soldiers stationed at Mass Fusion and in Concord unaccounted for.

“Mass Fusion attacked Goodneighbor,” I said. “They lost. I wasn’t there to see it, I only know what the Mayor told me. Super mutants attacked, a bullet hit an unintended target, and things escalated. As for Concord, they sent a Knight into Sanctuary for reconnaissance. He was discovered, the rest of his team joined in the ensuing fight, and—”

“We buried them,” Preston said. “Kept the dog tags, we can give them to you if you want.”

Maxson remained stoic, “Thank you. Proctor Teagan, how much food do you estimate we’ll need for the walk back to the Capital Wasteland?”

And so the planning continues.


	14. Chapter 14

The preparations took weeks, but regiment by regiment the Brotherhood of Steel began the march home. Preston, Danse, and Valentine returned home long before, while I stayed in Cambridge to coordinate supply runs and as a gesture of goodwill. Paladin Brandis took it upon himself to act as a sort of liaison between me and the more stubborn soldiers. Proctor Teagan was just glad to have a willing source of supplies who wasn’t going to charge him an arm and a leg. I tried not to interact much with anyone else.

Preston and Danse came back to Cambridge on the final day of the Brotherhood’s departure. They claimed it was to escort me home. I believe that to be true, but more significantly I think Danse wanted to say goodbye.

We stood down the street from the police station, watching the final preparations. A Scribe hurried over to us, “General Holmes?”

“Scribe Haylen,” I greeted.

“When you see Deacon again, could you tell him I said thank you for helping me out? He distracted the Proctors when I was almost caught for jamming the communications array.”

“When you what?” Danse exclaimed. It was fortunate we were a distance away from the rest of the Brotherhood.

Haylen was offended, “It seemed like the only way to prevent the war was to stop the orders from coming through! How was I supposed to know no orders would be coming?”

Danse was astounded, “Why would you do something so foolish? If you’d been caught, your career would have been over, if not your life!”

Haylen stood tall and firmly stated, “Former commanding officer of mine always taught that I should stand by my principles, no matter what, sir.”

Danse was silent a solid two seconds as Preston and I tried not to smile. “Hmph. Well, he’s an idiot…” he softened with a small laugh, “a grateful and damn proud one.”

Haylen smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Preston quietly suggested.

“Thank you, Colonel, but no. I need to go home.” She took Danse’s hand, “I'm glad to have known you, sir.”

“I feel the same.” He let go, “Take care of yourself, Haylen.” 

“I will,” she said, and hurried off.

We watched in silence as the last vertibird took flight back toward the Capital Wasteland, the last caravan of soldiers marching south. The Brotherhood of Steel had left the Commonwealth.

Danse removed his helmet. “It’s strange, seeing them leave. I’m not as upset as I thought I would be.”

“You’ve a life to look forward to here,” I smiled. “A brave new world, all over again.”

Preston grinned, “Time to get back to work.”

After the Brotherhood's departure, the Railroad was free to spread out from the Boathouse as a less clandestine organization and more of a community service for synths. There are still plenty of people in the Commonwealth who are afraid of synths and react with anger upon their discovery, but without the Institute and without the Brotherhood to literally hunt them down, the Railroad has less and less reason to relocate them, and more and more reason to help educate the populace.

Liam Binet decided to move into the remains of Covenant, and turn the now overgrown and rundown settlement into a Minutemen Research Center. He was disturbed by the human remains littering the ground outside of town, and paled when I told him of the town's former purpose. Tinker Tom rigged an explosion to safely collapse the tunnel to the Compound; Liam wanted no part of that legacy of horror. Institute refugees were welcomed, along with any settler willing to apply themselves and learn what the scientists could teach. I insisted upon complete transparency, and Sturges and Curie both will make regular trips to see what progress is being made.

Isabel Cruz has thus far proven good to her word, working with Ada to design robots to defend settlements and assist with Minutemen patrols. As for the Minutemen themselves, Colonel Garvey plans on making regular trips to the Castle, though his office will remain in Sanctuary. Lieutenant Colonel Danse will also continue to oversee the training of the new recruits in Sanctuary. The current system in place works, and has even become a rite of passage for the new generation of recruits. The Minutemen grow stronger every day, and I can think of no two better people to guide them.

Two weeks after the Brotherhood of Steel left the Commonwealth, Valentine and I brought Shaun, Codsworth, and of course Dogmeat, on a trip to Sanctuary. Hancock and Cait escorted Piper and Nat at the same time, making quite the merry crowd on the trip north. We arrived at Sanctuary to see even MacCready and Duncan had been invited, and Deacon was there as well. Curie was bustling about the town, overseeing soldiers and townspeople alike as they decorated and prepared food.

I must admit, I was a bit nervous. Danse and Preston had asked me to perform the greatest honor I could imagine as their General, and more importantly, as their friend. I even dusted off my official uniform for the occasion. Valentine joked I should feel right at home, “seeing as how you’ve got experience impersonating a priest.” Oddly, it didn’t put me at ease.

Well, it was nearing time for the event, and neither groom was anywhere to be seen. Valentine went to check on Danse, while Sturges went to find Preston. 

~~....................... ~~

“Hey, Danse? You ok…” Nick trailed off into a quiet chuckle at the sight of Danse scowling at his reflection, a tie hanging twisted and undone around his neck. “Here, lemme do that.” Danse sighed and allowed Nick to help. “Never learned how to tie one of these things, did you?”

“Why would I?” Danse demanded, exasperated. “Neither of my uniforms required them.”

“Good point. Didn't want to wear your uniform?”

Danse looked down over his grey suit and blue vest, the same colors of his armor. “In a way, this is a different sort of uniform. I don't anticipate wearing this again.” Nick finished and stepped back. Danse looked in the mirror… and sighed, “Why am I doing this?”

Nick’s brow rose, “Thought this was your idea?”

“It was. I thought… clearly, I was malfunctioning on some level.”

“Hm. Can't say I've ever had a malfunction that made me propose to the fella I loved when I didn't want to.” Danse crossed his arms with rolled eyes, and then set to straightening his already straight jacket. Nick smiled, “Don't tell me you're nervous?”

“No. This is just,” he glanced at the window, “more than I thought.”

“You mean the party waiting? Hell, first marriage Sanctuary's seen, can't blame folks for wanting to celebrate.”

“I don't, but it's… uncomfortable. Valentine, why haven't you and Holmes married?”

Nick blinked. “You know, I think it just never occurred to us? Been living together, and Shaun became like a son to me so fast… guess I slipped into being married without stopping to think about it.” Nick paused a moment, “You wanna elope?”

Danse was confused, “What?”

“Skip all this, run out of town with your man down to Diamond City, have the reverend say a few quick words, honeymoon anywhere you want?”

Danse grinned, “Abandon my duties?”

That brought a warm chuckle. “Not even for love, huh?”

“Not for what is supposed to be a symbol of devotion and affection,” Danse clarified. “I know Preston would agree.”

“Suit yourself,” Nick shrugged. “Why'd you wanna do the symbol of devotion and affection anyway?”

Danse was quiet a long moment, looking off to the side but not really seeing what was in front of him. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm not very good at telling him… it felt like something I should do.”

“He knows you love him, Danse. You've told him that much, at least?”

Danse chuckled, “Yes. But a wedding felt like a promise, with all the weight the ritual places on it. Something I can hold in memory, a…” he grasped for a fitting description, and when he found it he looked at Nick like he’d discovered something amazing. “It’s an initiation. Of sorts,” he faltered, sighing, “That sounds idiotic.”

“Nope,” Nick said.

“Really?”

Nick nodded with a smile, “Really. You ready?”

Danse took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

Sturges hurried to find Preston. Danse was using their house, so Preston was in Sturges’s place. Why the hell the two people getting married couldn’t be in the same room he didn’t know, but Curie had been insistent that this was some sort of old tradition, and the two lovebirds had actually liked the idea. “Hey boss, you ready… oh c'mon, you ain't even dressed?!”

Preston stared at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Danse is in a _suit_.”

Preston looked at his uniform, “… shit. A suit? Fuck.”

“You didn't even look in the box, did you?”

“What box?!”

“The box with your name on it? Compliments of Anne Hargraves?”

Preston rushed to the box on the dresser Sturges was pointing to, opened it, and said, “…oh.”

Sturges rolled his eyes, “Man sees a custom made suit and he says ‘oh.’ Hustle, boss, the bride's waiting.”

“Don't let Danse hear you call him the bride.”

“Don't think he's gonna care, now hurry up. What the hell have you been doing in here?”

“Thinking. Pacing. Mostly thinking. Is he really waiting?”

Sturges glanced out the window, “He just stepped outside, folks are talking, you're not that late.”

“Late to my own wedding. Holy shit I'm having a wedding.”

Sturges smirked, “Sure are, boss. Kinda surprised Danse suggested it.”

“So was I. But it seemed important and… and yeah, I wanna spend the rest of my life with him. I love him.”

“This what you were thinking about when you should have been getting dressed?”

Preston laughed a little, sheepish, “Yeah. Still can't believe… any of it. That this is how my life is turning out.”

He looked in the mirror. The blue suit fit perfect, the grey vest reminding him of the Minutemen flag. He straightened the tie, it had been ages since he’d worn one, and Sturges put a hand on Preston’s shoulder. 

“Glad you stuck with us, Preston.”

Preston smiled, “So am I.”

Sturges grinned, “C'mon lover boy, let's get you out there. Rest of your life is waiting.”

~~....................... ~~

I’ve seen multiple weddings, some of which I was even invited to, and this one surpassed them all by far. The unbridled joy on their faces after the wedding kiss was a sight to behold. They didn’t leave each other’s side the entire evening. Preston even taught Danse to dance, a simple slow sway to a song on the radio, but dance just the same. Stories were told, multiple people produced packs of cards, the wine flowed freely, as well as some stronger substances courtesy of Mayor Hancock, but he also kept stock of who had had enough. The night was growing late when Preston suddenly interrupted Danse recounting a battle to a handful of recruits to kiss him, deeply. Danse’s expression completely changed, the recruits giggled maniacally, and set to ensure the newlyweds would leave the party immediately and unhindered.

“About time,” Valentine said to me as Danse and Preston hurried home. As I laughed, he put his arm around my shoulders, “Why haven’t we ever done this?”

“I am perfectly content to support my friends, but I can’t imagine being the focus of such an event.”

“We could always elope.”

I smiled, “Do you have a sudden desire to get married, Nick?”

He chuckled, “Not particularly, Sherlock. Just a question we never asked, is all.”

“I see. In that case, Nick Valentine, do you promise to have me as your partner, to love, comfort, and honor, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live?”

He smiled, small, and his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. “I do.”

It is strange the emotion that so simple a phrase can elicit. “So do I.”

We left the party, made sure our son was sound asleep in bed, and followed the example of the newlyweds.

I am not so naive as to think the future will be easy. The Minutemen have made great progress, but there are still plenty of cold and bitter hearts and minds in the Commonwealth. Yet no matter what challenges we may face, no matter how strong the winds of conflict and war, as long as there are people who value compassion and justice before all else then a cleaner, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared. We'll make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely done with these characters, but this is where this story ends. Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments over the length of this saga, I appreciate you. What started as a fun experiment in storytelling became a bigger, deeper story than I imagined, and it's been wonderful to have you along for the ride. Come say hello on [tumblr](http://www.kaelma.tumblr.com), and I hope to hear from you again on future fics.


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